


Fenix Fusiliers: Rebirth

by Zoness



Category: BattleTech: MechWarrior, Mechwarrior: Dark Age
Genre: Capellan Confederation, Dark Age, Davion, Draconis Combine, Federated Suns, Gen, Large Cast, Mercenaries, Multiple Protagonists, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Swordsworn, lots of characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoness/pseuds/Zoness
Summary: It is 3145, and the Republic crumbles. Now the fate of the Federated Suns is on a razor's edge as the Draconis Combine and the Capellan Confederation consume them with reckless abandon. The Fenix family of Caselton has always been loyal to House Davion, but as the Draconis March seems to crumble in the face of the Suns' two old enemies can Leftenant General Lindsay Fenix and her mercenary force save Caselton and her family?And when Duke Aaron Sandoval is slain in battle will his loss become the rallying cry that finally brings the long awaited Sunrise? Or did the wily hero give his life for nothing but the dying relic that once was the greatest of the Successor States?Did the resourceful Duke truly give his life at all?





	1. Reflection

**Prologue**

**Fenix Estate**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**June 1st, 3145**

 

The sound of rain usually brought a sense of calm over Lindsay. She could remember being very small and loving the sound of rain on the rooftop, or drifting off to sleep to the patter of raindrops on the hover-car during long drives with her family back when it was still intact.

Before the Blackout. Before John ran off to join the Republic's defense forces . . . and she'd run off to join the Swordsworn.

She tried not to be lulled off by the comforting noise and instead ground herself in reality. She understood as she examined herself in the mirror that nothing could be out of place. Not tonight.

Her shoulder-length strawberry blond hair was longer on the left than the right, coming down past her cheek nearly obscuring her eye to hide the burn scars on that side of her face. It looked like a stylistic choice, albeit not one in keeping with the latest high society fashion.

She told herself that she didn't hide the scars out of vanity, at least not entirely. She was simply tired of hearing the same thing every time someone new spotted them. “Oh, did you get that serving with the Duke? You must have been very brave!”

Bravery had had little to do with it.

Perhaps it had been bravery that drove her to join the Swordsworn in the first place, but now over a decade later Lindsay could look back on the idealistic youth who had so defiantly run away from home and see not the brave Davion loyalist, which was the image her family worked to carefully cultivate now, but instead a half-mad fool fresh from Sakhara Academy barely embracing her twentieth year and already thinking she knew more than all of Caselton put together.

A stupid woman who had tried to be a hero like the Mechwarriors from the old stories, like her grandfathers who had fought in the Clan Wars, who had followed Prince Victor in the Civil War, and who had helped lead their family's mercenary regiment through the Word of Blake Jihad emerging intact only to be disbanded by Devlin Stone.

The older woman looking back at her in the mirror now didn't see it that way though. She wasn't brave, she'd just wanted to be _someone_.

Her dress was hunter green with blue trim, the colors of the Swordsworn, a reminder to everyone at the party tonight whose side she'd been on when the blackout struck, a reminder that while Caselton had maintained its relative neutrality Lindsay had been among the first of its daughters and sons to rise up and stand alongside Duke Aaron Sandoval and his noble Swordsworn.

She shook her head slowly, raising her left hand and looking at the ultramarine blue shoulder-length glove and wondered if she should go down stairs without it. Let them see the cold lifeless metal, the real reward of an idealistic young fool.

Though as cold lifeless metal limbs went it was a _nice_ arm at least. Duke Aaron had seen to it that she had the finest prosthetic available, and though her own family could have afforded it he'd insisted on paying for it himself. A gesture of appreciation for one of Caselton's bravest, he'd said at the time.

He'd been a smooth one, she'd never deny that. Inspiring as well, it would have been enough to the young Mechwarrior just to know that he had visited her in the dropship's sickbay but having him speak to her personally, tell her he intended to handle her medical expenses himself . . . it'd made her feel eager, if not desperate to get back into a BattleMech and keep serving the Swordsworn.

Duke Aaron Sandoval's Swordsworn. Not Erik Sandoval-Groell's Swordsworn.

It'd been quite the trick too because before he'd spoken to her all she could think of was what a fool she'd been to leave home only to end up, two years later with burns on a third of what remained of her body and missing a part of her that would never come back.

Not to mention the arm.

The truth now was the green and blue didn't fill her with the sense of pride it was meant to. She wasn't Swordsworn anymore, in truth there were no Swordsworn now. No Ghost Legion, no Prince's Men and the only Davion Guards were the official ones.

The Republic's Fortress Wall had come up, shielding it from the rest of the Inner Sphere, stranding her brother—and a number of her family's trade Jumpships—behind it and leaving the rest of the Inner Sphere to its own devices, its own fate.

Caselton had made the obvious choice, the right choice, the _only_ choice and rejoined the Federated Suns. The old world once again part of the Draconis March and those who had been Davion loyalists like her went overnight from radical rebels or relics clinging to a storied past to patriots who had never given up the dream of returning to the sword and sunburst banner of the Federated Suns.

For most of the Fenix clan it was a welcome return. Many of them had never forgiven Devlin Stone for putting an end to the Fenix Fusiliers or for demanding they hand over their BattleMechs. True as far as the public knew there hadn't been much left of them by the end of the Jihad, really only a lance of Mechs were in any shape to be properly handed over to the militia and Stone's people didn't dig too deep to see if there were more hidden away. But all the same it was an act that earned Stone no loyalty from her family.

John being the exception of course. John believed in every word Devlin Stone had ever spoken.

Lindsay thought about her older brother and wondered what life was like for him now. Did he remain loyal to his wife still on Caselton or had he remarried? What had become of him, had he become one of the Knights of the Sphere? Or had he died on some unknown battlefield?

Would he be proud to know that his daughter was about to follow in her aunt's footsteps instead of his and travel to Sakhara V to attend the prestigious Sakhara military academy?

_You probably wouldn't approve,_ Lindsay thought, _but I'd like to think you'd be proud of her anyway. And who knows, if the Republic hadn't backed down maybe she'd be going to some Republic academy and maybe you'd be the one our family parades around as the loyalist hero._

She hated being paraded around by her family as 'the Davion loyalist' now more than ten years after she'd come home. It wasn't that she felt like the title was dishonest, it was true enough: she'd been a Davion loyalist and she still was. But so was everyone else. It wasn't treason anymore, it was just the way of things. There was no risk or shame to it, there was nothing special about it, nothing that needed to be hidden or so advertised.

But she had her part to play just like they all did, and tonight that part was about to become far larger.

The Fenix Fusiliers had been a Combined Arms regiment since its restoration with each battalion fielding a Company of Mechs—whatever they could get at first, though they fielded fewer Industrials now—then another of Armor and another of infantry—battle armor for the first battalion but typical foot soldiers for the second and third.

However as more and more worlds fell to the Draconis Combine stragglers and survivors managed to trickle their way in, many brought by Fenix Jumpships. Lindsay and her father had been working hard to convince stray mercenaries and even displaced militiamen to sign on with the regiment and though these Mechs and vehicles often required extensive repair they had been successful.

Tonight they would be announcing to the family and the local investors that with the new addition of the full mercenary company Reynholm's Razors the first battalion would instead be arranged into a fully BattleMech Battalion.

Of less important news to those investors was the fact that the second battalion would take the form of an Industrial MOD Mech Company with two companies of armor for support while the third battalion would be a gathering place for the regiment's infantry. It was the First Battalion that they'd truly care about, the Fenix Fusiliers BattleMech Battalion. It was marketable and it would make the people of Caselton and no doubt the investors themselves feel just a little bit safer.

In some ways it was just a publicity stunt, and really it wouldn't be the game changer that her father would be selling it as. As BattleMechs slowly ceased to be a rarity on the fields of the Inner Sphere foot soldiers and tanks were bound to be pushed back in battlefield relevance again. Of course armor and infantry were still vital to any war effort but the day would come when they were no longer the deciding factor on the fields of this Dark Age.

But the First Battalion wasn't the only announcement her father Jhonen 'Old Phoenix' had for the people tonight. As he'd aged he desired less and less to take on the role of the Regiment's Leftenant General. Though his performance against Capellan raiders over the past decade showed everyone that his time as a Mechwarrior hadn't passed yet he insisted that the responsibility of regimental command would soon be beyond him and it was time for the Fusiliers to have a new leader.

Her.

He'd be making both announcements tonight at the celebration their family would hold to both welcome the Razors into the fold and to say goodbye to two of their own as her niece Alayne prepared to leave for Sakhara, and while Lindsay knew it was pure vanity she felt as if she'd be overshadowing the whole evening just by being there.

The favored daughter of the Fenix family, the brave Swordsworn Mechwarrior injured saving Duke Aaron's very life on Arboris, now she was going to be given command of a whole regiment at a party meant to celebrate others? She thought to herself, _I can't believe you're doing this to me, father. I know I can lead a Battalion, and part of me knows I can lead the Regiment but . . ._

She thought back again to those long drives in the family car and how safe and secure she'd felt with her father at the wheal. The Fusiliers had felt the same way, after the Swordsworn it had felt reassuring even comforting to be with her family's unit and to know that her father could and would handle everything from Capellan raiders to angry financial backers.

And of course he'd had her help and she recognized he'd been preparing her to take control of things but now the one making everyone feel safe and reassured was going to have to be her and as she looked in the mirror she _could_ see the proud Davion loyalist dressed in the green and blue of the Swordsworn ready to take command of a reborn mercenary regiment and save the Draconis March and Caselton single-handed . . . and she also saw the woman who had lost an arm, nearly lost an eye, been nearly cooked alive in the cockpit of her _Wolfhound._

_Well,_ she thought to herself, _I did want to be a somebody._

 


	2. The News

 

**—==** **Chapter 1==—**

 

**Fenix Estate**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**June 1st, 3145**

 

The party in Fenix Estate wasn't necessarily a crowded affair, high society tended not to be. But it was still difficult for Lindsay to find a familiar face among the social elite of Caselton. Though her position in her family had made her an important person in the media most of the actual hobnobbing with the upper crust of society was carried out by her cousin Dominic, the head of the family's corporate assets.

Though the Fenix family had first made their fortune in the defense contracting business—a booming business in Caselton's heyday—it was through making use of their Jumpship and Dropship fleets that the family had kept their wealth during Stone's pacifist reign. Caselton was a world lacking in natural resources, even the Fenix family's mining concerns had been devoted to excavating caverns for underground fortifications, not mineral gathering.

So importing goods and materials wasn't just big business, it was what kept the fortress world of Caselton truly habitable. So much so that it had been the blockading of Caselton and conquest of her support worlds by the Word of Blake that had allowed them to finally take it during the jihad.

When Caselton became a part of the Republic Devlin Stone had ordered much of the world's defenses dismantled. Defenses that had made Caselton almost impossible for the Word of Blake to capture outright and then almost impossible for the Federated Suns to win back. Defenses generations of her Fenix ancestors had helped build and that had even been the envy of some capital worlds were simply taken away in the name of peace leaving Lindsay's home vulnerable.

When the HPG blackout struck thirteen years ago hampering the Inner Sphere's ability to communicate with itself over the light years that it spanned fully half of the family's Jumpships had been appropriated by the Republic to aid in setting up a messenger system to keep communications between worlds flowing as smoothly as possible. It meant messages had a delay, but communication _was_ possible.

Obviously Lindsay knew that at the time her family had been pleased to be of service to their now former nation but they had expected to eventually have the Jumpships returned rather than have half of what they “volunteered” caught behind the Fortress Wall when the Republic decided to protect its most important worlds and leave the rest, Caselton included, to fend for themselves.

Her bitterness towards Stone might never fade. But at least now under Davion rule once more they were free to rebuild Caselton's defenses and to restore her family's mercenary regiment. Though the Fenix family was what Lindsay would call “comfortably wealthy” they were not nobility, and their cup was not bottomless so meeting with donors and holding fund-raisers to help with the regiment's restoration or the fortification efforts was a regular occurrence these days.

But that was usually her cousin Dominic's job, and he excelled at it. Dominic was part of the Merchant half of the family, when the unit was founded by her grandfather and granduncle the two had done so turning their backs on the family shipping and excavation businesses. Though the Fenix clan had reconciled and reunited during the Word of Blake Jihad there was still a bit of an ideological difference between the 'Fenix Merc' and the 'Fenix Merch' branches as they tended to call each other. One side excelling at war, the other at business.

As a graduate of Sakhara Academy she knew how to rub elbows with the upper-class but even at Sakhara her fellow cadets had shared at least one interest: military service. Here at this party she felt out of her depth as she was approached by various people eager to make her acquaintance and talk to her about everything from agriculture to clothing shops. Dutifully she did her best to commit their names and faces to memory, try to remember at least one detail about whatever story or anecdote they told her, and of course be polite but firm whenever it came time to move on. All the same she'd started to feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of strangers at what, again, was not a crowded party.

It left her all too relieved when she spotted a group of men dressed in the uniform of the Fusiliers. Seeming to her like a proverbial oasis in the desert she practically rushed to the trio dressed in the navy jackets and blue pants that mimicked the paint scheme of the unit's Mechs, which sported an ultramarine torso with brighter cobalt at the head and limbs.

The unit's crest, a blue phoenix surrounded by white hot flames set on a heater shield with again the ultramarine on top and the cobalt below this time with a slate gray bar separating them sat on the right shoulder of each man's jacket. Lindsay would have liked to have been wearing her uniform as well that evening but she'd been advised against it by none other than the first man she greeted of the trio.

“I've been looking for you half the night, Old Phoenix,” She told her father, the gray-haired warrior who turned to her and smiled in response.

“Well it seems you've found me, Little Linz,” He said. Using her childhood nickname was usually a sure sign that he was exceptionally pleased with her even though he knew she hated it. But given that she'd started by calling him by his own unwanted nickname Lindsay guessed he was just responding in kind. He told her, “I was just having a word with our new officers here.”

Harrison Reynholm, founder and former leader of the mercenary company Reynholm's Razors grinned and greeted her warmly, holding out his mechanical right hand to take her own cold metal limb he bowed slightly and kissed her hand in a very gentlemanly fashion before releasing her hand with a wink and saying, “My apologies, I've been talking your father's ear off this whole evening.”

He was a smooth one, though he had nothing on Duke Aaron. Reynholm was nevertheless a dashing figure, cliché though it might be he fit perfectly the old “tall, dark and handsome” description. A well-trimmed beard covered his face and a thin close-cut layer of black curls covered his head though both were interrupted by the scar that ran from the top of his scalp down the right side of his face narrowly missing his eye. Of course unlike Lindsay's own scarring it did nothing to detract from his natural good looks, in fact for some it probably only enhanced them. Harrison Reynholm looked like the sort of rogue mercenary Mechwarrior one might find in a holo-vid and Lindsay had no doubt it was a look he'd spent his entire career cultivating.

His former second in command Ernest Wilhelm was the third man of the trio. Shorter than Reynholm by almost a full head he still managed to cut an impressive figure himself. Gifted with blond hair that looked as smooth as silk and piercing jade green eyes he might not be as dashing as Reynholm but he'd fit just as well on a recruitment poster.

Wilhelm said, “A pleasure, Major—that is Kommandant. I must confess this mix of Lyran ranks will take some getting used to.”

“The pleasure is mine, Leftenant and I understand. The original unit was founded during the days of the Federated Commonwealth,” Lindsay explained, “while we know the Suns returned to their old ranking system after the Civil War when my father and my cousin Artemis revived the unit they chose to keep everything the way it had been when their fathers ran the show, including the ranking system.”

“Tradition is a wonderful thing.” Reynholm said, nodding emphatically. “I must say it surprises me to see you out of uniform yourself. And here I thought we four would be a matching set.”

Lindsay grinned and tilted her head towards her father, “Sorry to disappoint you. But as the old man reminded me not everything we do has to be martial,” _Some of it must be political,_ she thought, _“_ Tonight we are welcoming you and your company into our family and showing our financial backers that the regiment is stronger now, but we're also celebrating the departure of two of House Fenix's best and brightest youngsters.”

“So I've heard,” Reynholm nodded, “this is to do with that Sibko thing your father was mentioning, yes? We were just discussing enrolling my younger boy Hadrian into the program but I don't quite understand what it is.”

Lindsay felt a little relieved to be able to talk about a subject she actually knew something about. She said, “Well when the regiment was disbanded after the Jihad most of those who survived were either from Caselton already or had nowhere better to be, the old Fusiliers were like a family to a lot of people after all.

“That included some former clanners they'd captured during the wars and two of them happen to still be with us. When Caselton was returned to the Suns and my father and cousin announced the regiment's return most of the sons and daughters of the old Fusiliers were quick to sign up but some of us had our eyes set to the future as well. Not everyone who was interested was old enough to start piloting a BattleMech, and since they start training young in the Clans our own former Clanners suggested we make use of them as they put it, and let them start training future Fusiliers.”

“So the unit's children train as a sort of auxiliary?” Wilhelm asked.

“Not at all,” Lindsay assured him, “We're not out to make child soldiers, if anything think of it as an intense Academy prep course. They'll experience physical training and Mech simulators, and practice actual Mech piloting for those sixteen and up. It coincides with their regular schooling as well so no one's disadvantaged if they suddenly realize they want to be a lawyer instead of a Mechwarrior.”

“But if they do choose to follow the warrior's path when they reach the age of majority they're offered a place in the ranks of the Fusiliers, or we can help them get in with the Caselton militia if they'd prefer. For those who score the highest and manage to make the typical requirements as well the Fenix foundation also fully funds their tuition to the academy of their choice.”

Wilhelm let out an impressed whistle, “Full ticket? Man Harry, imagine if we'd been with the Fusiliers back when junior made the grade for NAIS.”

That surprised Lindsay, she knew Harrison's elder son Harrison junior served as the company's third lance leader but she hadn't realized he'd been qualified to go to the prestigious New Avalon Institute of Science. She shrugged and said, “If he'd been in the sibko's top five we'd have sent him off with bells and whistles.”

Reynholm smirked ruefully, “Yeah, well that's the past, NAIS isn't everything. Anyway Junior's did fine apprenticing under Chapel and even if he doesn't believe it he earned command of third lance. There's not much about being a Mechwarrior or a commander that he could have learned from NAIS that he hasn't learned after the last four years in the field.”

“Especially during these turbulent times,” The Old Phoenix said, “but you _are_ part of the family now, and qualifying for NAIS isn't anything to sneeze at. The option is there for Hadrian if he's interested in the program.”

“What about your own graduates? Where are they off to?” Wilhelm asked.

Lindsay couldn't help but feel a little bit proud as she answered, “My niece Alayne and one of our cousins, Elim topped their year and will be heading to Sakhara Academy.”

“Sakhara? Isn't that place for rich types?” Wilhelm asked. “No offense, I understand the Fenix family is loaded but it seems like a waste of money to go there when places like the Warrior's Hall would do?”

“Others did choose to go there,” Lindsay acknowledged, “But Sakhara has some of the best simulators and a very good training battalion. But beyond martial training one of the bigger advantages of Sakhara is that it's something of a private school, it's the sort of place where wealthy future clients will congregate and where you can make the sorts of connections that a Mercenary needs to be successful. The unit's founders actually went there and Sakhara became a family tradition for the mercenary side of the family ever since.”

Reynholm nodded, “And if Hadrian does well in this Sibko thing you'd actually be willing to send him there too?”

“Absolutely.” Lindsay said, “It's really not that much different than most scholarship programs.”

Her father added, “It's also not nearly as brutal as an actual sibko, which of course is why our Ryza keeps insisting we call it something else. But these kids have all grown up together in the same community for the most part and they view each other as family. Your boy Hadrian might be a bit of an outsider at first but if he's interested he'll be accepted.”

“Family seems to be an underlying theme of your regiment,” Reynholm said, “It's one of the reasons I signed the papers actually. I ran the Razors the same way, I didn't want us being bought out by someone who might change that.”

“The Fusiliers have only gotten as far as they have because of family,” Jhonen told him, “And not just because they're named after my own family, or because our merchant cousins loaned us the capital to rebuild the unit. My father and uncle firmly believed that a mercenary unit is different than a House army or a Clan Touman. They _can_ just be men and women who fight for pay but more often than not that sort of pilot can't be counted on in a real pinch. That sort of pilot could betray you for a better offer. From lance to company to battalion and even to regiment they endeavored to make sure their Mechwarriors felt invested in the unit because they _were_ the unit.”

Lindsay added, “It was the strong family atmosphere of the old Fusiliers that got their captured Ghost Bears attention actually. By the time of the Ghost Bear-Combine war mercenaries were considered Dezgra by the clans, the unit managed to take some prisoners but they weren't as cooperative as Bondsmen were known to be. But the Fusilier sense of family was about as strong as the Ghost Bear sense of it so they sort of just . . . found themselves going along with things.”

“And now it's these Ghost Bears who train the next generation of Fenix Fusiliers,” Wilhelm said with a smile, “It's almost poetic.”

“Well, half right,” Lindsay said, “Ragna was a Ghost Bear, and she's starting to feel her age. But Ryza was a Jade Falcon Elemental. Bloodnamed too, though she hasn't gone by Helmer since before I was born. She was captured when the Falcons tried to capitalize on the Civil War.”

“The Fusiliers got involved in that?” Reynholm asked.

“You bet they did,” Lindsay said with a grin, “Captured our real pride and joy in that engagement, the Overlord Dropship even Stone wasn't able to talk my grandfather into handing over.”

“A Clan Overlord? Any Clan Mechs in the bargain?” Wilhelm asked.

“A few,” Lindsay said, trying not to sound evasive, “Most didn't survive the Jihad of course.”

Reynholm grinned and said, “Nasty business that, it's a testament to the Fusiliers that they emerged at all even if Stone disarmed them afterwards. But still, a Ghost Bear and a Jade Falcon? I'll bet even sixty years after the end of the Jihad they're a volatile couple.”

“You wouldn't want to upset either of them,” Lindsay told him with a grin of her own, “Ryza may be pushing a century but even an ancient Elemental can toss a person across the room without breaking a sweat and I can say that from experience. By the way, don't ever tell her I called her ancient.”

“I'll try to keep that in mind,” Wilhelm nodded.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Reynholm agreed, “though I have trouble imaging the scenario where you'd deserve to be thrown across a room.”

“I was mouthy,” Lindsay told him simply. She laughed, playing it off as a joke while trying to think of a way to change the subject when her cousin Dominic approached.

He looked stressed, but he forced a smile so natural Lindsay almost would have thought it genuine and said, “Good evening gentlemen, cousins. Lindsay I must say you look stunning this evening. The green suits you.”

“Compliments, Dominic? You have some _very_ bad news for me, don't you?”

Her cousin's expression fell a bit, telling Lindsay that her joke had been far closer to the truth than she'd expected.

But he recovered quickly and said, “Well not exclusively. Please, take a walk with me and I'll explain everything.”

“Certainly,” Lindsay said, nodding to the others and allowing Dominic to lead her away. When they were sufficiently away she whispered, “What's going on?”

“We need to talk,” her cousin told her. Dominic was only fifteen years her senior but the poor man was as gray as her father no doubt from the stress of running the family's import business through the Blackout. He looked around as if he were afraid someone might listen in which only made Lindsay nervous about what he was going to tell her.

“All right, Dom. You're starting to scare me here,” Lindsay warned him.

“As if anything scares you,” Dominic said dryly. “Listen, we had the _Coronado_ return early from Tikonov. One of our Dropship is heading for the planet with some unexpected cargo; a pair of BattleMechs and their Mechwarriors who apparently have been asking about you.”

Lindsay stared at him in shock, “What, survivors? Do you mean to tell me Tikonov has fallen? Is Duke Aaron on his way here, or is he falling back to another world?”

Just the thought chilled her heart. Tikonov was Duke Aaron's world and it was also in striking distance from Caselton. They already got Capellan raids from Rio and Mira, if Tikonov fell an invasion force would be next.

“No, no,” Dominic told her, “but it was close from what the Captain told me. The Third and Fourth Federated Suns Lancers held the world against a Warrior House and two other regiments but I'm afraid I didn't really get names or anything you might find useful.”

“So Tikonov held . . . that's good, isn't it?” Lindsay asked.

Dominic shifted uncomfortably and looked around again before telling her, “I don't know if I should be the one to tell you this . . . but the drop ship is still five days out and if you don't hear it from me you'll hear it soon enough . . .”

“What?” Lindsay demanded.

“Just remember the Fusiliers are contracted to defend Caselton,” Dominic was telling her but Lindsay waved a dismissive hand.

“Don't be stupid, of course I wouldn't take them off of Caselton in this situation! The militia has barely a battalion of real fighters and the ragtag AFFS units that have turned up from all over the March don't improve their number by much more than maybe a mixed armor regiment not counting Finnigan's Second Federated Suns Lancers. If we pull out Caselton could fall to a force half the size of what hit Tikonov,” Lindsay was saying, then she realized what might make her cousin _think_ she'd abandon her contract.

She asked him, “Did Duke Aaron ask for us? Does he need the Fusiliers to help him hold Tikonov against another wave?”

Dominic was sweating now, but he shook his head and told her, “Duke Sandoval didn't ask for the Fusiliers, if he had I'd be a madman to tell you not to go, Tikonov accounts for a full third of our business these days.”

“No, you'd be a rational thinker, the Fusiliers account for a third of Caselton's defense,” Lindsay said archly.

“Lindsay, the Mechwarriors in the Dropship say they're former Swordsworn, they were part of the Duke's personal unit.”

That wasn't unusual, though Erik Sandoval-Groell had taken control of the Swordsworn not everyone had been willing to follow him, some were more loyal to Duke Aaron personally and had remained with him. Had the Fusiliers not needed her by the time she'd recovered from her injury Lindsay might have been among them.

But if two of them were looking for her . . .

Dominic told her, “They asked for you by name because they're hoping you've got employment for them. They're out of a job you see because . . . Duke Aaron was killed in action on Tikonov.”

 

 

 


	3. Heirlooms

— **==Chapter 2==—**

 

 

**Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters “The Nest”**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**June 2nd, 3145**

 

The main Mechbay was filled to capacity with slumbering giants. Titans built from Endo Steel skeletons and Myomer muscle to wage war across hundreds of worlds.

Elim Fenix didn't venture into the main Mechbay often, he didn't have much reason. With the sibko he had trained in Industrial Mechs, which had their own bay. He had been able to pilot one of the _Pack Hunter IIs_ in a few training exercises with the militia, and he'd been able to pilot his great grandfather's _Victor_ once—to move it from one bay to another—but other than that the sight of the sleeping titans wasn't something he'd had occasion or opportunity to take in.

Along with Alayne, his cousin, he was led towards the far end of the massive hanger. It was built to house a full battalion and with the addition of the Razor's Mechs still painted in their gray and orange tiger striped pattern it was able to do so again.

There were twenty giant stalls on each side of a wide divide that would allow Mechwarriors to leave two at a time when deploying from any of the four massive bay doors. Though the building had doors for the north, south, east and west Elim suspected they'd entered from the door furthest from their destination.

It was no problem for his great grandmother, despite having entered her ninth decade Ryza Helmer's Elemental blood still left her an imposing physical figure, towering at over two point three meters she stood head and shoulders above Elim himself, who stood barely two meters himself.

He was, after all, only a quarter Elemental.

The Fenix brothers, Theodore and Benjamin had married very different women. Benjamin, Alayne's ancestor had married the regiment's chief technician Alice Flint, a woman of some Northwind heritage. But Elim's great grandfather Theodore wasn't convinced to settle down until he met a woman capable of forcing him to, and it'd apparently surprised no one more than his great grandmother that she was the one to do it.

To hear her tell it the only thing that aggravated the former Jade Falcon more than falling in love was living this long.

But Benjamin's descendants had inherited Alice's hair color, resulting in Alayne and Lindsay's similar strawberry blond hair color, while Theodore's descendants had inherited Ryza's height and propensity for physical prowess.

As a result piloting BattleMechs wasn't always easy, or even _possible_ for some of Great Grandpa Theo's descendants, Elim himself coming from something of the “runty” line meant that it was a possibility for him, too tall—or wide—and a Mech's ejection seat could become a greater death sentence than simply being trapped in the machine.

But despite the skepticism of some cousins and even his older brother Marcus he had proven himself not only a capable Mechwarrior in training but the best in their training class, with Alayne following behind a close second. Of course being short—relatively speaking—wasn't the only reason Elim had for having to excel, and he knew it was the same for Alayne.

As they walked down the wide floor of the Mechbay Ryza spoke up, telling them, “Most of these Mechs, the original Fusiliers' Mechs at least, were savaged during the jihad. As you know when Stone's people ordered the unit to disband Theo and Ben only handed over the Mechs they couldn't hide, or that they'd never be able to restore. They hid the rest and dipped into the family's fortune to buy the permits and licenses to publicly hold on to a single lance.”

“Grandpa Theo's _Victor,_ which he nicknamed _Tyrfing_ , and grand-uncle Ben's _Hunchback IIC,_ which he named _Dragon's Gift_ after it was awarded to the unit for their service in the Combine-Ghost Bear war.”

“And which my father inherited and renamed _Stonesworn_ to boast about his devotion to the man who tried to ruin our family.” Alayne added.

Elim was used to hearing the venom in Alayne's voice as she spoke about her father.

Actually the two of them had bonded when they first joined the sibko because of their fathers. Even though they both had the Fenix surname the truth was that neither of them was the child of a member of the regiment. On the contrary they were the children of the two most vocal anti-mercenary members of the Fenix family outside of the Fenix Merch side of the clan.

Alayne's father John was seen by the rest of them as little better than an outright traitor for his decision to abandon Caselton and join the Republic's forces during the early days of the Blackout, and where Lindsay had earned her reputation back when Caselton's return to the Federated Suns made service with the Swordsworn a more heroic act many had doubled down on the disdain for Republic loyalists to showcase their loyalty to the Suns. That included ridiculing Alayne for her father's decisions.

Elim's own father hadn't gone as far as joining the RAF, but Sisko Fenix was a known voice on Caselton accusing his family of gouging the world's wealth by daring to expect payment for their defense contract. He felt that the Fusiliers should either petition the Prince to be accepted into the AFFS, or disband and join the Caselton militia, but above all else he felt that they unit had no business accepting money for the defense of their home world.

In other words he was an idiot who didn't know what he was talking about and like Alayne had for her father, Elim had had to deal with quite a lot of ridicule because of his. Sometimes he suspected that that was what had caused the two of them to try so hard in the struggle to rise to the top and be the best of the sibko. It had certainly colored their decision to go to Sakhara academy like their great grandfathers, sending a clear message that they were Fusiliers.

“ _Tyrfing_ , _Stonesworn_ , yes. Also the _Wolfhound_ that Lindsay Fenix would pilot for the Swordsworn, and the _Summoner_ that Jhonen is piloting now,” Ryza said, waving a hand towards the Clan OmniMech not far in the distance. The sight of the former Jade Falcon machine sent a thrill down Elim's spine. He couldn't understand Stone's insistence on destroying these titans, even though the _Summoner_ had fallen to Ben's descendants it was still a piece of two separate portions of Elim's heritage.

Just like his great grandmother it had once been Jade Falcon and now it was Fenix.

“But like I said, these were just the Mechs they couldn't hide from Stone's people. They are the Mechs they piloted when the Fusiliers fought alongside Stone's people to take back Caselton from the Word of Blake, but these aren't the Mechs they piloted throughout the bulk of the Jihad.”

Alayne got a dreamy look in her eyes as she said, “My great-grandfather piloted a Mad Cat Mk II he called _Godhand_. The Fusiliers captured her from the Jade Falcons just before the Jihad along with uh . . .”

“Myself?” Ryza asked, and Elim could practically hear the old giantess's smirk.

But Alayne blushed and shook her head violently, “N-no ma'am, I was going to say _Caladbolg,_ the Mech that your husband piloted during the Jihad . . . I just don't remember uh . . . exactly what sort of Mech it was.”

Elim smiled and said, “I do. _Caladbolg_ was a _Daishi,_ a _Dire Wolf_ , the ultimate Assault Mech, the greatest OmniMech the Clans ever built.”

“Arguably,” Ryza said, still smirking.

“Both of those Mechs were damaged beyond repair in the final defense of Caselton before the Fusiliers were forced off-world, that's why our great-grandfathers had to pilot older machines they'd actually passed down to other members of the Regiment by then.” Alayne said.

“Yes . . . well most of the regiment got off-world. As you know myself and some others were unavoidably left behind to wage war against the Word on a smaller scale, using the underground network of tunnels that helped make Caselton such a fortress world. We were the ones who sealed away as many of the regiment's Mechs away as we could in an effort to keep the Word of Blake from salvaging them and using them. When the Republic came we just . . . didn't tell them.”

Elim let the full reality of those words wash over him, it was Alayne who said aloud, “You mean we still have them?”

“Of course.” Ryza told her. “It would take a true fool to ever give up a prize as valuable as a _Dire Wolf._ But it was quite a project getting them back online. Lindsay pulled Chief O'Bannon off Tyrfing to work on them and once word got out to the other techs almost all of them were all too eager to lend a hand in their off hours, I suppose for them it was like having a chance to rebuild history.”

“And they did it in secret?” Alayne gasped.

“Well some of us knew, but we had to make sure you didn't find out, it'd ruin the surprise.” Ryza told her.

“What? Why surprise _us_?” Alayne asked but Elim already had a feeling he knew . . .

“You two completed your training, you completed _my_ training and you passed with flying colors. You passed with a higher score than any of the others before you and, while I might not agree with the decision, you are going to be going to an academy where all of that will be secondary to one thing: your social standing,” Ryza said, “Lindsay did not want to send you two off to Sakhara without Mechs of your own.”

“Mechs of our own? Won't there be training Mechs at the academy?” Alayne asked.

“Of course, but the students have always been welcome and even encouraged to bring their own Mechs. Most of them are wealthy enough to have their own brand new BattleMech, but few would look down on an ancestral Mech.”

“Ancestral Mech?” Alayne whispered as the realization seemed to strike her like a rampaging wildebeest and she gasped as they neared the final stalls in the hanger.

There Elim could see the full reality with his own eyes. _Godhand_ was to his left, but instead of the blues and gray of the Fusiliers the Assault Mech was painted in the gray, blue and red of the Sakhara Academy's training battalion.

And in the bay across from it to the right Elim actually expected to see _Tyrfing_.

It made sense for Alayne to receive one of her great grandfather's Mechs, but as his great-grandmother had said only a fool would give up a prize as valuable as a _Dire Wolf_ , and hadn't Lindsay ordered her own chief technician to restore _Caladbolg_? The Mech would be a sight to fear by anyone facing the Fusiliers and it was certainly a trade up from the _Victor._

When his great-grandfather had captured the _Dire Wolf_ he'd passed _Tyrfing_ down to a trusted subordinate, Elim had assumed Lindsay too would take the lead in _Caladbolg . . ._ but there was the “Great Death” itself resting across from its younger sibling painted in the same gray, blue and red . . .

Elim was taken aback as Ryza said to them, “Alayne, your grandfather and aunt have given you _Godhand,_ and Elim, your cousins and I have agreed that you are worthy of _Caladbolg_.”

“Blake's blood!” Alayne gasped.

“You cannot be serious . . .” Elim stared in a mixture of excitement and horror at the Mech. It was too much, even the _Victor_ would have been more than he deserved but _this_? “Lindsay or Jhonen should be piloting this, this Mech should be at the head of the Fusiliers, not being used for peacocking on Sakhara!”

A new voice spoke up as Chief O'Bannon emerged from _Caladbolg's_ stall saying, “Your cousin Lindsay is satisfied with _Tyrfing_ , she and I have put a great deal of work into making that Mech everything it is today, I don't think she'll ever give it up.”

The man was short and slightly rotund, but his arms were thick with muscle. The portions of his skin not covered in oil and grease—namely enough of his face for positive identification—were pale in stark contrast to his pitch black hair, hair that was if possible a shade darker than Elim's own raven black hair.

Elim's great grandmother towered over the man yet she nodded to him with a level of respect he didn't see her show very many people as she said, “The Chief is correct. Your uncle Artemis left that Mech to her in his will and I believe it is more to her than just a machine to be discarded in favor of a superior model. I admit that I expected you would see your Great-Grandfather's BattleMech the same way, Elim.”

“I do,” Elim said, “it's just . . . this is too much to waste on Sakhara.”

“Which is just what the wealthy cadets and instructors at Sakhara will think,” O'Bannon said, “they'll remember you two and they'll remember the Fusiliers. When the day comes that they're thinking of which Mercenary force to hire for whatever reason, or one of their tycoon friends needs a job done they'll remember the Fenix cousins and it'll be us they come to.”

“So you see even on Sakhara you're serving the interests of your family. This Mech is not some random gift or even truly some bloodline entitlement. You are, you _both_ are already two of the greatest pilots in the regiment. It's true by taking this Mech you serve the interests of House Fenix, but remember that you are both _members_ of House Fenix, even if your fathers are disgraced you can still bring honor and glory to _your_ names.” Ryza told them. The old Elemental folded her muscular arms and asked, “So what will it be, Elim? Do you accept this gift and the responsibility that comes with it?”

Elim looked at the _Dire Wolf_ and felt a strange sort of connection with the machine . . . just like Jhonen's _Summoner_ this Mech was two parts of his heritage, just like his great-grandmother it was once a Jade Falcon, now it was a Fenix.

More than that it had been great-grandpa Theo's Mech, same as _Tyrfing,_ but this was also the Mech that could have been stolen from their family either by the Word of Blake or by Devlin Stone's followers if his great-grandmother Ryza hadn't been able to hide it away from the whole of the Inner Sphere . . .

He looked to Alayne and she smiled slightly, saying, “Don't look at me, I've never been less conflicted in my life.”

Elim smiled back and nodded to his grandmother. “Very well,” he said, “I will happily and gratefully accept . . . and if it's what it takes I'll devote every day of my life to being worthy of this honor and my great-grandfather's legend.”

“Neg!” His great-grandmother snapped, startling him out of what was an otherwise reverent moment, “You will _add_ to their legends by forging your own and in time your reputation may eclipse their own. That is the way of things, the young must outdo the old.”

“But shouldn't we also honor their memory?” Alayne asked.

“In a sense,” Ryza allowed, “But never imagine that you are in their shadows, or you will fight so long to emerge from them you will have no time to cast your own. Honor them by casting your own shadows, honor yourselves by seeing to it that they are shadows that block out the sun. It's time to step away from the reputations of your great-grandfathers _and_ your fathers and begin your own legends.”

Elim smiled and nodded to his great-grandmother, “I will.”

“So will I.” Alayne agreed.

Ryza spared them a very rare and very brief smile before O'Bannon rubbed his meaty hands together excitedly and said, “Lets get you two in the cockpits!”

“In the cockpits?” Alayne gawked.

The technician laughed and said, “What, you think we're going to load them onto the Dropship for you? My crew and I didn't go to all the trouble of getting these beauties operational again not to see them take their first steps out of the bay! Get suited up Mechwarriors and take these bad boys for a stroll!”

The two smiled and went about obeying their elders.

 


	4. The Warrior

— **==Chapter 3==—**

 

**Dropship _Yunchang_**

**Low Orbit above Angol**

**Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation**

**June 15th, 3145**

 

In the Mechbay of the Overlord-class Dropship _Yunchang_ , Pai-zhang Bowen Jiang of Warrior House Dai Da Chi mentally prepared himself for the battle to come.

It would not be a battle he could fight from the cockpit of his _Cyclops_ , instead this would be a battle of words.

The Confederation's attack on Tikonov had failed to conclude in the world's conquest _this time_. The two Federated Suns Lancer regiments had proven more formidable than the Capellan forces had expected and the sole triumph had been the slaying of Duke Aaron Sandoval.

That honor was not Bowen's of course, though it did belong to House Dai Da Chi. It was a poor salve to the fact that they had been forced to retreat in the end and every Pai-zhang, or Lance Commander, was eager to lead the way when their forces returned to Tikonov, and they knew they _would_ return.

But Bowen's heavy lance had suffered less severely than some of the others, they would be back on their feet and ready to train on the arctic fields of Angol sooner than many of the rest.

But would that alone be enough to convince his Lien-zhang, or Company Leader to let his Lance take the lead?

Theirs was not an Augmented Company consisting of two lances of four Mechs and two vehicles, but a more traditional twelve BattleMech formation split into three lances. Lien-zhang Ubina preferred to send his light lance to scout and then follow them up with his own lead lance. Always trailing behind was Bowen's heavy assault lance.

But on Tikonov this tried and true tactic had backfired against the highly mobile Davion forces. The light lance had been trapped and savaged before the heavier elements of the Company could arrive to support them resulting in the near extermination of the lance. Its sole survivor being assigned to Bowen's lance to take the place of his only loss.

It remained to be seen whether they would even receive a new lance of light Mechs to replace their losses or, with the ever increasing toll the war was having on the already exclusive Warrior House, if the lack of manpower would become an excuse to transform them into an Augmented Company and send them a lance of armor instead.

Bowen did not favor that idea, he had no strong desire to command a pair of tank jocks on the battle field. He was a Mechwarrior and a commander of Mechwarriors. House Dai Da Chi was one of the most renowned Warrior Houses with some of the finest Mechwarriors in the Confederation. They were known for the excellence of their Mechwarriors, not for the suitability of their tank jocks.

But all the same whether they were supported by light Mechs or by armor when Dai Da Chi returned to Tikonov his lance would be _far_ better suited to taking the lead than a new lance of light BattleMechs or even the Lien-zhang's own lance. His lance-mates Sing Sun and Chung MacDade's twin _Cataphracts_ were of the CTD-4L variety, with the use of their Stealth Armor it would be _them_ getting the drop on the Davion forces expecting to find lighter advance scouts, after their heavy lance ravaged the Lancers' hit and run units then the Light Lance could be unleashed to chase them down like blood hounds.

Or so Bowen planned to say, he only hoped that it would be enough to convince the Lien-zhang to set aside his own glory to let Bowen and his lance have a chance at first blood.

“Pai-zhang,” his technician, Alexi, spoke up and snapped Bowen out of his troubled thoughts. The man had bright amber eyes that almost seemed gold, his face had a rugged look with his facial hair seemingly trapped in a perpetual five-o-clock shadow, and his body a strong physique owing to the many hours he spent digging through the guts of the towering behemoth that was Bowen's _Cyclops_. Despite his strong frame he was no infantryman, he was no warrior of House Dai Da Chi.

Nevertheless Bowen did not look down on the man for though they were not equals Alexi was his personal technician. It was his duty to ensure that the ninety ton war machine was in top working order and he performed the job well. It would have been the height of hubris for Bowen to look down on such a man simply because his trade was not war, and the Mechwarrior nodded to him respectfully, inviting him to speak his mind.

“The damage to _Boyue's_ left leg is fully repaired,” Alexi told him, calling the Mech by its nickname, “that foot actuator shouldn't lock up again, but if it does you might be able to unjam it by giving it a couple of good stomps.”

“Thank you, Alexi, I would not have thought of that,” Bowen said honestly. Though BattleMechs possessed the ability more or less stomp their feet it wasn't really the sort of thing most pilots would do and Bowen's own knee-jerk reaction when his Mech's joints locked up was to treat them cautiously fearing that putting undue strain on them would just cause them to break.

But he knew Alexi would understand the durability of the old _Cyclops_ better than most.

“No problem, sir. But there was nothing I could do for those Medium Lasers, they're totally fried. I'll need replacement components.”

“I don't know what they'll have on Angol, but I'll see what I can do when I speak to the Lien-zhang,” Bowen told him. “I want my Mech to feel like new when we conquer Tikonov.”

“It should be an easier fight this time, shouldn't it?” Alexi asked. “Our House won't have to waste time hunting that Duke this time.”

Many of the warriors of Dai Da Chi _were_ insisting that their headhunting operation had been the true reason that Tikonov's defenses had held, and that had they been allowed to fully engage the Federated Suns Lancers they would have annihilated both regiments.

But Bowen was less certain. He wouldn't denigrate the Capellan soldiers who had given their lives by pretending that the Lancers regiments and the other Tikonov defenders hadn't been worthy foes. They would be worthy of respect and caution upon the return, to think less of them would be by extension to think less of the Capellan forces they had just defeated.

The warriors of House Dai Da Chi were not overly spiritual, they were the most martial of all the warrior houses but Bowen had a certain reverence for his nation and its history. The slaying of Duke Sandoval was just a footnote, though he honored his brothers and sisters for the successful deed when the Capellan Confederation's conquest of the Federated Suns was complete no one would care that a nothing of a Duke was slain by the finest of Mechwarriors.

But the restoration of the jewel of Tikonov, that was an act for the history books. The liberation of its Capellan people was a feat for the greatest of Mechwarriors, a feat for Bowen Jiang and Warrior House Dai Da Chi and for that he wanted his _Cyclops_ in the finest of conditions so that it might be worthy of the event.

He couldn't explain any of that in words to Alexi though, so he just said, “I'd just like the old girl at her best in case anything unexpected _does_ pop up.”

The technician winked, “Understandable, sir. Actually I thought about ripping the components out of that _Raven_ , it's a 4L so they'd be the extended range variety, they'd suit _Boyue_ well. But I wasn't sure if that heap of scrap was technically part of the lance or not.”

Bowen laughed at first saying, “It is not, that _Raven_ is going to be transferred and my new lance-mate will be assigned a new Mech more in keeping with the weight-class of this lance, probably not anything as imposing as Henry's _Yu Huang_ was, but something suitable I'm sure.” the Pai-zhang was saying then he had a stroke of memory and asked, “Wait, you say it is a _4L_? Aren't the _Raven 4Ls_ equipped with Stealth Armor?”

“Six tonnes of it.” Alexi nodded. “Why do you ask, sir?”

Bowen groaned and thought _so the Davion forces got the jump on Light Lance even with Stealth Armor? So much for that plan._

But aloud he said, “No reason, I'm just glad you spoke to me before I had the chance to talk to Ubina.”

Alexi shrugged and said, “Well, glad to be of service I suppose.”

“Were you just saying you wanted to speak to me, Pai-zhang?” A new voice asked from behind him.

But Bowen didn't have to turn around to know that the Ubina standing behind him was not the one he'd been referring to. Instead of seeing his commanding officer when he turned around he would see the newest member of his lance, Ban-zhang Joseph Ubina. Son of Lien-zhang Demou Ubina, sole survivor of the Light Lance.

“Hello, Ban-zhang,” Bowen said, finally turning to face the younger man, “no I was not referring to you, though my technician and I were just discussing your former BattleMech.”

“That _Raven_ belongs to House Dai Da Chi, not me. Use it however you see fit, Pai-zhang.” The younger Ubina told him.

“Ah but there you err, Ban-zhang,” Bowen told him, “it will be for House Dai Da Chi to use it however _they_ see fit.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Tell me though, I was only just now hearing that your _Raven_ was a _4L_. I was unaware that Pai-zhang Chuang's lance was a shadow lance.”

“Certainly not, sir, no more than your own lance is. Our scout lance had two _Raven 4Ls_ but the other Mechs were a _Clint_ and a _Sha Yu,_ as I'm sure you know.”

“Yes,” Bowen said. He knew the Mechs, it was their specific configurations he wasn't familiar with. The Pai-zhang focused on his own people and his own lance, which he recognized now included Joseph. He folded his arms and asked, “So would you say that your Stealth armor aided in your survival?”

“Not particularly, sir. Maybe if I'd tried to run, but once they have visual there's only so much you can do. It _did_ allow me and Cati to get close and try to bail out Pai-zhang Chuang, though we weren't on time. It was the Lien-zhang's lance's arrival that saved me.”

_And cost him both his lance's_ Vindicators _but I'm sure he'd have done the same for anyone else in the House,_ Bowen thought. He nodded and offered an automatic, “I'm sorry for your loss, Ban-zhang.”

In truth he was, but he'd had weeks of travel time to get over the initial shock of Chuang's death and though he'd been a brother in the Warrior House Bowen believed the way to honor him and the others they'd lost would be to return to Tikonov and conquer it properly the second time around.

“As I am for the loss of your man, Pai-zhang. But we will honor them properly when we return to Tikonov, yes?” Joseph asked.

Bowen smiled, “Exactly my own thoughts, Ban-zhang. To that end I'd hoped to see your father about letting the Heavy-Assault Lance take the vanguard when we return.”

“I would be honored to assist you in that endeavor, Pai-zhang. I know that many in the Company believe my father shows me undue favor, I do not agree but if it is true then let us at least use it to our advantage.”

Bowen smirked, “Unworthy, Ban-zhang. I will secure the vanguard without resorting to nepotism, the fact of the matter is that our lance is relatively more intact than the Lien-zhang's, and we can't be certain of our new lance. It would be better to let our heavier assets take the front line and use faster units to support us and run down fleeing Lancers.”

“Yes sir, good luck sir.” Joseph nodded.

But Bowen did somewhat regret his decision. Though the noble warrior in him didn't want to use nepotism the pragmatist in him recognized that if he wanted the honor of their Company's vanguard he couldn't be above using whatever tactics he could.

 


	5. The Legion

— **==Chapter 4==—**

 

**DCMS Planetary Headquarters**

**Xhosa VII**

**Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine**

**June 20th, 3145**

 

Whomever it had been that recorded Xhosa as a tropical world had either had a very warped sense of what 'tropical' meant, or perhaps more likely, a very dark sense of humor. In fact the planet was frozen and unpleasant, which led to a reluctance among many of the warriors to set a single unnecessary foot outside of the relative warmth of the planetary headquarters.

Not that the conquering forces had much reason to leave their base. The populace of the formerly Federated world was properly subjugated but that didn't mean they were welcoming towards the soldiers of the Combine even after these two years that their world had served as the base of operations for the Second Legion of Vega.

Acceptance would come in time, after two years most of the people were beginning to understand that their conquest was not just a temporary occupation and that no Federated Suns counter attack was coming to 'rescue' them from the 'evil' Dragons. Instead  _ they  _ were now dragons . . . to an extent.

Without the advantage of the HPG network to quickly convey news from world to world the full scope of the Combine's ever progressing conquest of the Federated Suns was a mystery to many of its people. However as an officer of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery Takumi Saeki was very well aware of how close their forces were to the capital world New Avalon, and to plunging a dagger into the heart of the sword and sunburst.

Of course this could all change if the reports from the Rasalhague Dominion border were accurate. If the Ghost Bear raids truly were as vicious as the rumors claimed they could well be the prelude to a larger invasion, an invasion that could well see the Combine's fortunes reversed.

But that was what Takumi Saeki would be finding out in a few short months when he arrived at the border.

He arrived at the office of the Second Legion's commanding officer, Tai-sa Miyoko Tsukamodo. An armed guard who knew him well nodded in recognition and opened the door without a word, no doubt knowing that the Tai-sa was expecting him.

Saeki nodded to the man and entered the office. The Tai-sa was seated at her desk looking over some data-pads, no doubt judging the readiness of her regiment for their upcoming attack on the world of Exeter. There was an unremarkable metal kettle and a pair of steaming mugs of hot tea sitting on the Tai-sa's desk. Tai-sa Miyoko Tsukamodo tilted her head towards the seat opposite hers and told him, “Take a seat, Takumi-san. Have some tea.”

He did as he was bid, gratefully letting the hot cup warm his hands for a moment rather than drinking from it.

The Tai-sa's stomach didn't agree with coffee, but truth be told Saeki's taste-buds didn't agree with most teas. Still he wouldn't refuse his commander's generosity and he forced himself to take a sip and hid his revulsion towards the taste with the sort of expertise only a long life in the Draconis Combine's upper class could provide.

The Tai-sa smiled and asked him, “How does your promotion feel, Sho-sa? Apart from overdue, I mean.”

“It would feel better if I were not being sent away to the Seventh, but I live to serve the Dragon.” Saeki said with a nod to his soon-to-be former Tai-sa.

Tsukamodo's smile diminished sympathetically, “As do we all,” she told him, “and believe me I'll miss your assault company on Exeter. But Tai-sa Greer's need is greater than mine if the reports are true.”

“How bad is it?” Saeki asked.

“Well you won't have much of a battalion to assume command of, which is why I've approved your personnel requests and the promotions of your lance commanders to Tai-i. Your requested third Company Tai-i took some doing of course.”

“You approved all three?” Saeki asked in surprise, “I had assumed at least some of the Seventh's Second Battalion's command staff would remain in place.”

“Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you view it,  _ that  _ is how bad the situation is. Tai-sa Greer has had to fold most of the second battalion's surviving command staff into the first battalion. Actually he seemed relieved you'd be bringing your own people.”

“I understand.” Saeki nodded slowly, taking in his mixed fortunes. “My thanks Tai-sa, for backing my requests.”

Miyoko sipped her tea and said, “No need. The unfortunate reality of the Legion of Vega these days is that too many of our people are ready and worthy of promotions they are not receiving. The situation made things simple, as did high command's willingness not to waste a 'worthwhile' officer in transfer to the Seventh . . . no offense meant to you, Takumi-san.”

Takumi smiled slightly, “None taken, Miyoko-sama. I understand the situation of the Legion of Vega, and though I will miss the Second Legion I am pleased that my new home will be with the Seventh so that I may continue to do my part to disprove the public perception of our unit's worthiness.”

“Your name sets you apart in that at least,” Miyoko said. “Actually I believe it was the surname Saeki that had Benjamin District's high command so quickly approve everything.”

“My name holds weight only because my sister married well,” Takumi chuckled.

“She married  _ very _ well. But let us not pretend that you are not a politically savvy man, Takumi. Born Theodore you changed your name to one more proper, one that wouldn't invite accusations of association with any unpopular former Coordinators  _ before  _ the Civil War led to our current . . . change of leadership. Your sister married into a powerful family helping to secure for you and your late brother the title of Samurai and the right for you both to continue to pilot BattleMechs for the Combine even when Stone's directives kept such things difficult.”

“You make me sound like some mastermind,” Takumi said, blushing slightly, “I assure you I am just a lucky man.”

“Better lucky than skilled, I've heard it said. Whatever the case you've been a great asset to the Legion and I am pleased that you will continue in that capacity,” Miyoko said, taking another sip of her tea so Takumi mimicked the action himself.

This was not the first time they had had this discussion, and the truth of it all was that Takumi was not the social strategist she believed him to be. In reality it was less a matter of him paying attention to where the winds would blow and more a case of him being flexible enough to bend with the breeze rather than trying to stand against it.

But there were limits. His personal sense of honor wouldn't allow him to cross certain lines, and that was why he had  _ chosen  _ the Legion of Vega to serve in. The least loved but loyal sons and daughters of the Draconis Combine, the dumping grounds of those not fit for a recruitment poster.

It was Takumi's pleasure, if not his  _ honor  _ to fight alongside the sons and daughters of former mercenaries and outsiders, being himself the son of both.

“I will not fail you, nor will I fail Tai-sa Greer. I will honor the Dragon and meet these Ghost Bear raiders in honorable combat. I will crush them and ensure that you and the others can continue to stab into the heart of the Federated Suns by guarding the Dragon's back.”

“Well said,” Miyoko smiled broadly, “And in the spirit of that I have a further gift for you. Your new regiment has been savaged by the Ghost Bear's treacherous raids as you know, but also by the necessity of the Dragon's war machine.”

“What do you mean?” Takumi asked.

“I mean that many of the Mechwarriors you will be commanding have been dispossessed,” Miyoko told him, naming the one fear all Mechwarriors shared in common above death itself. The threat of being a warrior without a war machine, of having your Mech shot out from under you by an enemy or worse  _ taken  _ from you by your own superiors and redistributed to some other warrior.

Takumi felt a chill run down his spine. Being part of the front-line war effort the Second Legion of Vega had not had to experience much threat of dispossession but he had heard that it was an unfortunate fate of much of the Eighth Legion. The Eighth, but not the Seventh.

“I had no idea things were that bad for the Seventh Legion,” Takumi admitted.

“Well we are the dumping ground for those fit only to die for the Combine, are we not? Low-born, ex-mercenaries and malcontents. But you needn't worry, I have requisitioned for you a full company of BattleMechs to take to the border with you. They will only require you take a brief detour to collect them.”

“How did you manage this?” Takumi asked, genuinely impressed.

“An advantage of being offered the scraps other regiments turn down,” Miyoko said ruefully. “Unfortunately you see these Mechs are training models captured from some Federated Suns academy, but with proper refit they will be suitable for the field. This combined with what remains of the Battalion you will take command of and your own Company should bring your Battalion nearly back to full strength. This should be a welcome gift to both Tai-sa Greer and the warriors you will be taking under your command, no doubt it will improve their morale.”

“ _ Hai _ , I believe so. It is more than I could have ever hoped for, more than I have any right to expect. I am humbled, Tai-sa.” Saeki said honestly.

“Which is why I trust you will serve the Dragon better than any of us could hope for, more than the Dragon herself might expect. We cannot have the Bear swipe at the Dragon's flanks, you have watched my back for years now you will be watching the Dragon's back against a far fiercer foe than the one I face, old friend.”

Takumi stood up and bowed, “And I relish the opportunity, Tai-sa.”

“I'll let you make any necessary preparations. It's a long way to Shionoha, especially with the detour.”

Takumi nodded, though he wouldn't take his entire company with him on the detour. Seeing as his request for the Third Company Tai-i had been accepted he would simply send word for the freshly conscripted mercenaries to meet him on this academy world and have them aid in bringing the new Mechs to the front. He would take only his own Mech because he hated the idea of being apart from it but the rest of the assault company would proceed straight to Shionoha to assist the Seventh.

He bowed his head and said, “Understood, Tai-sa. When next we meet may we both know great victory and honor.”

Miyoko smiled, refilling her cup of tea from the kettle she said, “With luck it will be at the celebration of the conquest of New Avalon and the death of the Federated Suns.”

 


	6. Reunions

— **==Chapter 5==—**

 

**Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters “The Nest”**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**June 7th, 3145**

 

“You'll have to pardon the mess, I'm moving offices.” Lindsay said to the two familiar Mechwarriors as they entered the office of the First Company Kommandant. The office she, as the regiment's Leftenant General, would be leaving behind.

“Blake's blood, never mind the mess! Look at you! You look like an _Atlas_ flicked you across a football field!” Arisa Ariyoshi cried as she entered the room.

Lindsay smirked from behind her old desk and answered back, “I could say the same of you, Arisa-san. But I had a Mech shot out from under me thirteen years ago, what's your excuse?”

“She's just naturally ugly.” The other Mechwarrior, Jules said.

It was a lie of course, Arisa was actually quite attractive and she knew it, but personal abuse was just sort of the way things had been in the Ghost Legion. Lindsay realized she hadn't really noticed just how much she'd missed the old unit until then . . . she hoped the feeling would be mutual.

The two were very different individuals, Arisa Ariyoshi was a fairly tall woman of Draconis descent with too-long wavy black hair. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, Lindsay felt more than a little jealous of that and not just because of her burn scars.

Julian or “Jules” as he preferred to be called was actually a freeborn originally from Clan Jade Falcon, and his body was covered in tattoos including one of a green falcon's wing over his left brow. He was actually rather short but his muscular build would keep anyone from calling him small. In her time with the legion he'd sported a warrior's stripe, but now he was shorn-headed.

“It's good to see you two again,” She told them honestly, “I had no idea you were on Tikonov.”

“We were fairly new arrivals actually.” Arisa said. “We were with the rest of the Ghosts for the better part of a decade since we lost you.”

“More recently the Duke offered us more than his nephew.” Jules told her.

“Just you two?” Lindsay asked.

“He was taking things slow, trying to get some elements of the Sword Sworn back from Erik. He got us and a few others, and he wanted to try to get the whole Ghost Legion, planning on using those of us who came over as the bridge to make that happen.” Arisa told her.

“Not the Prince's Men?” Lindsay asked.

“They were more loyal to him it's true, but it would have been a bigger coup. A few former mercenaries wouldn't raise as many eyebrows.” Arisa said with a shrug.

“What about you? Aren't you in contact with anyone?” Jules asked.

“Well without reliable HPG access it's a bit difficult. If I were to have kept in touch with anyone it would have been you two.”

“The two of us over the rest of Charlie Trinary?” Arisa smirked, “Even Tesarek?”

“Don't bring up Tesarek . . . but yes, maybe I've exchanged some letters. Just a couple over the past _thirteen_ years.”

Arisa smiled knowingly, “Well Charlie Trinary is mostly intact, Delta's split but Erik hasn't shuffled the Swordsworn up too much, mostly I think he just can't be bothered.”

“The man does more or less have a nation to run.” Jules pointed out.

“Has he really risen that far?” Lindsay sighed, “I knew Prince Caleb had taken a shine to him, he'd had to have done to rip the Swordsworn away from Duke Aaron and hand them over to the disloyal toad!”

“I wouldn't go as far as to call him a disloyal toad, it was better that the Swordsworn stayed together than be broken off and sent to other regiments piecemeal, don't you think?” Arisa asked.

“There was just no reason for them to be stripped from the Duke in the first place,” Lindsay said, “and I know Prince Caleb didn't think of it on his own. It was meant as an insult, surely you see that.”

“Well maybe you could have said something at the time, but you weren't there.” Arisa shrugged.

Jules gave her a reproving look, but Lindsay let the comment go. It was Arisa's nature to be blunt and honest, and Lindsay wouldn't have had it any other way, even if the reminder that she'd been too weak to return to the Swordsworn stung a bit.

She said, “You're right. I should have been there then, but I certainly didn't have any reason to go back after that.”

“Well we're here for you now.” Jules told her.

“For me?” Lindsay asked.

“Well,” Jules said with a bit of a shrug, “No reason the Duke's passing should mean the end of his work . . . any of his work.”

“More specifically we're mercenaries looking for an employer and we have mercenary friends who might be willing to switch employers . . . and turns out our little Lindsay was a rich kid.” Arisa said.

“Rich family, pretty poor personally.” Lindsay told her. “Don't get me wrong though, I can dip into the family fortune to an extent and my new position does mean I could use a Command Lance. But are you saying you want _me_ to take over what Duke Aaron was trying to do and buy out the Swordsworn from under his nephew? How could I ever accomplish that?”

“Start with the Ghosts.” Jules said simply. “When we were serving the Republic the Duke won us over to his side by reminding us just how boring rotating guard duty was and offering us better pay. Now they're a House unit remembering how boring rotating guard duty is and if someone wealthy were to come along and just offer them better pay . . .”

“But they have no reason to follow me. I can guess you two had some interested parties or you wouldn't be coming to me with this, but surely they wanted to serve under Duke Aaron again.”

“On the more dangerous and lucrative Capellan front, yes. But Caselton is wedged right between the Capellan _and_ Draconis fronts. Besides, you're not Duke Aaron but you're still part of the family.” Jules told her.

Lindsay sat back in her chair and thought on that. After a moment she looked at them and said, “I'm part of a new family now though. The head of it. That means I can't be a Ghost Legionnaire anymore, hell I'm really not even Swordsworn anymore . . . I'm a Fenix Fusilier.”

“So what?” Arisa asked, “If we follow this metaphor then families join together all the time through marriage. You're the wedding, both a Fusilier and a Swordsworn and you can buy out the whole Regiment and double your forces. Think of how safe Caselton would be then.”

“I am.” Lindsay nodded. “But don't forget you're asking me to buy them out under the nose of the Prince's Champion, and I'm not part of _his_ family. The Duke might have had aims to make a power play with his nephew but I'm not even noble, do you have any idea how suicidal it would be for me to wage war, social or otherwise, on Erik Sandoval-Groell?”

“A minute ago he was a traitorous toad, now he's the Prince's Champion?” Arisa smirked.

“He's a traitorous toad who happens to _be_ the Prince's Champion.” Lindsay pointed out. She steepled her fingers without even realizing it and stopped as soon as she saw that she was doing it. She shook her head and said, “I'm sorry you two . . . but I can't let buying the Legion give Erik an excuse to damage the Fusiliers. This is my family's legacy, and Caselton's protection we're talking about.”

“And what about Duke Aaron's legacy? Especially now?” Jules asked.

“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked.

“He means that it wouldn't be declaring war on the Prince's Champion under _these_ circumstances . . .” Arisa hesitated and then said, “Lindsay if you were to _avenge_ the Duke . . .”

“Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind,” She said quickly, “I'm not letting you two leave this office without telling me who I need to _annihilate_ for that.”

“Who else? It was the Warrior House, they came after him just like they did on Arboris.” Arisa said with a shudder, “He fought as well and as bravely as you might expect, but they knew which Mech was his and they ignored the rest of us as best they could to get at him.”

Lindsay shuddered as well, “It sounds like an assassination.”

“That's exactly what it was,” Arisa told her, “There wasn't much we could do.”

“And he didn't pull the same trick he did on Arboris?” Lindsay asked, remembering that on the world that had scarred her the Duke had managed to trick the Capellans into chasing his Mech on a fighting retreat to buy the rest of the Swordsworn the chance to escape . . . but it had been a proxy champion and not the Duke himself piloting his _Black Hawk_ at the time.

It had been a proxy champion and not the Duke that Lindsay had been maimed trying to protect.

Arisa didn't answer, but Jules said, “You think the same trick would have worked twice? Even if he'd had time to set it up.”

Lindsay sighed and said, “Well I had to hope, didn't I? To think he's really gone . . . it feels like . . .” She shook her head, “I don't even have words for it! It's as if there's a hole in the universe now.”

“Yes . . . and it's time for you to step up and fill it.” Arisa told her. “They took the Duke and they'll be back for the rest of Tikonov.”

Lindsay shook her head and sank into her chair. For a moment the full reality of the universe and how small she was relative to it hit her full force . . . she couldn't wage war on a Warrior House, even the weakest Warrior House still had the force to rip her Fusiliers apart.

For the first time since her cousin Artemis had died she wanted a drink. For an instant she wanted it more than anything else, but she buried the desire and let her contempt for her own weakness spill over into self-chastisement for her selfishness in thinking of her own powerlessness in the face of the bigger picture.

She couldn't afford to _be_ powerless, Caselton couldn't afford for her to be an insignificant nobody.

And a very dark thought passed through her mind. She looked at her two former-lance-mates, her two old friends and said, “I want to hunt this Warrior House down, I do. But if Tikonov falls Caselton is next.”

“Yes. But one Mech battalion and some combined arms units won't change the outcome for Tikonov. They _can_ make a difference on one of the most fortified march worlds in the Inner Sphere though.” Arisa said.

“Just to be clear you two are planning to use my _home_ as a trap for this Warrior House. Tell me . . . am I wrong?”

“Not quite. This world used to be the staging ground for the Federated Suns' plans to take Tikonov back when it belonged to the Cappies, right? Won't they use it to stage a counter-attack?” Jules asked.

“Whenever they find out about it. But Caselton is Tikonov's neighbor and we didn't even know it was hit until it was over. With this blackout if the Suns have any forces to throw at Tikonov to take it back it could be a full year before they arrive at Caselton and that's assuming they don't have bigger fish to fry, the Draconis March is crumbling.” Lindsay said.

“Well we'll help you hold it until then.” Jules told her.

“And more importantly so will the rest of the Legion . . . I hate to say it but Duke Aaron's death actually makes it easier.” Arisa sighed.

Lindsay bit her lower lip and looked down at her metal arm. Free of any gloves and covered up only by the sleeve of her jacket she could look at the cold metal limb . . . and remember the man who'd given it to her.

She clenched her fists and said, “So we use Caselton as a trap? We watch Tikonov fall on the chance that the war machine will strike here next? We let Tikonov fall so we can get our revenge here?”

“That's right.” Arisa nodded. “I know how it sounds but we can't save Tikonov with just your forces, and the Swordsworn wouldn't be able to get there in time. I give Tikonov a few months at best, the Third and Fourth Lancers were too badly damaged. They might be able to use the factories on world to bring some of that salvage into operating order but they won't have enough experienced people to pilot all of it and there won't be any reinforcements. If the forces existed in the Capellan March you can bet Duke Aaron would have already had them en route.

“Things are bad all over the Capellan March but I believe we _can_ blunt the spear, use this fortress world to stop the Confederation's momentum on this side of things. One victory on Caselton, the Swordsworn avenging their founder and the Fenix Fusiliers defending their home world and the spirit in the March can turn around. You've got to admit it'd be just the sort of story the Suns need to rise up again.”

Lindsay wouldn't deny that. The regiments formed from Davion loyalists living in the Republic and her family's mercenary unit stopping the advance from Tikonov, maybe even killing a Warrior House in the process . . .

Most of the Sword Sworn had been nothing but Suns loyalists picking up rifles and standing up for their freedom. They'd had the last ten years to be whipped into a real fighting force as part of the AFFS, but that perception of them as little more than a band of ragtag militia rising up could be used properly . . . if they _won_ on Caselton similar forces could start springing up throughout the Draconis and Capellan marches just so long as the rumors could spread and with the Fenix family's merchant arm to spread them . . .

_It'd give Erik a popularity boost since they're his forces,_ Lindsay thought, _and it could allow me to buy out Charlie Trine and maybe a few others to add them to the Fusiliers . . . this could work . . . it'd leave me stronger, it'd leave the Suns stronger . . . did these two really just think this up on the ride over or was this all some part of a scheme of Duke Aaron's too?_

Lindsay felt a strange suspicion tugging at her mind, but she dismissed it. It was true this all seemed like just the sort of scheme the Duke would cook up, truer still that his death in battle was _so_ advantageous to the plan that she could _almost_ blieve it was staged . . . but she knew that was just wishful thinking, and besides the man would never let Tikonov fall in the first place.

She folded her arms and said, “Caselton's militia is about the size of a regiment, combined arms of course and greener than grass . . . the Fusiliers are just one BattleMech battalion, with a second combined arms battalion on top of that, and an armor battalion. There's less than two regiments worth of sundry savaged AFFS regimental survivors, mostly from from the Capellan March but some from other worlds in the Draconis March. Along with the Swordsworn _if_ we can get them that'd be a little more than six regiments to defend Caselton.”

“Six regiments to defend the most well fortified non-capital in the Draconis March.” Arisa said.

“Used to be. We haven't been able to rebuild _half_ the defenses this world had before the Jihad, Stone gutted us good.” Lindsay said.

“Stone gutted everyone,” Jules said, “But even if the Capellans bring twice the force they brought to Tikonov the first time around we'd meed them on even footing.”

“Assuming they give us the time to prepare and assuming Groell sends us the Swordsworn,” Lindsay said, “but there's still two problems we'll have to find solutions to.”

“And they are?” Arisa asked.

Lindsay shrugged and said, “First, how do we know the Confederation will even try to hit Caselton with the same forces they'll use to take Tikonov? For this to work we _need_ to defeat this Warrior House and that's no easy feat but to top it all off we'd need to make sure they come here at all instead of going to some other hot spot.”

Arisa smirked, “Oh that's easy. We're close to Tikonov, the moment we hear she's fallen we start raiding specifically to annoy the Warrior House. We'll hit their holdings in particular and shame them until they beg Daoshen Liao to let them lead the assault on Caselton.”

“What's the other problem?” Jules asked.

Lindsay shrugged and said, “The Draconis Combine. The Confederation is closer now, but that doesn't mean we're safe from the Dragon.”

Both mercenaries were quiet, lacking any real answer for that.

But Jules did smirk and say, “Maybe we can get them both to show up at the same time, then we just hide out underground and let them have it out. Kill the winners.”

Lindsay laughed and said, “And let the snakes kill the Warrior House for us? Not a chance . . . which House was it anyway?”

“Dai Da Chi.” Arisa answered.

Lindsay shook her head, “Might as well have just said Satan himself . . . oh well.”

“Oh well? That's it?” Jules asked.

Lindsay nodded. With a bravado she didn't really feel she said, “Aren't Dai Da Chi the best? Once we kill the best all that's left is the rest.”

 


	7. The Sibko

— **==Chapter 6==—**

 

**Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters “The Nest”**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**June 12th, 3145**

 

Hadrian or “Had” Reynholm knew he was far from unique in his disdain for Mondays but the future mercenary couldn't help but feel that his father adding after-school activities to his plate was less than warranted.

Not that there was much to do on Merlon. From what he'd heard the capital city of Battlement was more lively, but it was on the world's main continent Embrasure whereas he was stuck on Merlon where there were mostly just farms and open tundra. The Fenix residential holdings dedicated to both the families of the regiment and the families of the mercantile company assets had been built up around an old mining community or something like that and it was the closest thing to a city on Merlon but there wasn't so much as a real mall.

Given all that having some kind of structured activity might not have been so bad if it were just a few hours after school, but with the school year being out apparently he was expected to just give himself over completely to this . . . sibko thing? The old man must have gone mad.

At the tender age of sixteen the boy felt he had enough to deal with having been uprooted from the Razors' home on Cartago—a cushy security gig for a pharmaceutical corporation—to come to this low-population Podunk planet where there was nothing to do but watch grass grow. Had suspected that most youths his age were on Embrasure for the summer since he'd seen scarce few of them since they'd arrived and he'd hoped he'd be able to convince his father to let him spend his vacation in Battlement city rather than lazing about on the Fusiliers' base.

But now he was going to get enrolled in some sort of mercenary ROTC program that had the nerve to run during summer vacation, get yelled at by an old lady just because she'd been a Clanner—like they were even impressive anymore—and to top it all off apparently he'd be coming into it later than most of the kids his age already in the program so he'd be _behind_.

_They might even stick me with a younger class,_ the boy thought warily of having to put up with a bunch of snotty nosed brats.

At least he wasn't going to suffer alone. One of his friends, Leone Chapel, son of the Razor's Second Lance's Lieutenant Chapel had been unfortunate enough to be enrolled in the program too. Leone took some getting used to—which was probably how he'd have described Had himself in return—they didn't have much in common apart from their age. But they'd known each-other back on Cartago at least and anyway misery always loved company.

Though Leone wasn't the sort to indulge in misery. The other boy was impossibly upbeat as they walked across the base's tarmac jabbering from everything about how cool their gray jumpsuits looked to how great it'd be to have something to actually do.

“Maybe there'll even be some cute girls there,” Leone told him.

“Cute girls? Yeah right! You know what my brother told me? He said most of the Fusiliers' kids _volunteer_ for this!”

Leone raised an eyebrow, “I'm . . . not seeing your point, Had.”

“Any girl who _volunteers_ for this sort of thing isn't compatible with me no matter _how_ cute she is!” Had cried.

Leone laughed and said, “Maybe not. But my dad said they let the sixteen year olds practice in actual BattleMechs! Come on, even you've got to admit that'll be great!”

“Industrial MODs probably.” Had scoffed, he didn't want to imagine that there might actually be an upside to this.

“Nah, my dad said one of 'em told him they've got a bunch of _Pack Hunter IIs_ that they let the cadets practice in. It's to get us used to piloting a real Mech instead of just relying on simulators.”

“I mean if you _call_ a _Pack Hunter II_ a real Mech.” Had scoffed. But he had to admit, at least privately, that that really was more than he'd expected. Sure it was just a thirty ton light Mech, but it was an impressive design for the unit to have, much less to waste on training cadets. The young Reynholm wondered, _What's wrong with the Mechs then? Why wouldn't they use those things in the field? The Fenix family might be rich, but are they just that out of touch to boot?_

“Well at least we know you're destined to pilot a _Crab_ someday.” Leone said evenly and Had laughed in spite of himself and took a playful swipe at the other boy.

“Alright, alright, I'll try not to be such a downer. But come on, let's not get our hopes up thinking this is going to be . . . you know, even close to _good_.”

“I don't think it's going to be good at all,” Leone told him with a laugh, “but my dad said nobody trains their kids better than the Clans, and we're not on Cartago anymore. We're not going to be enjoying some cushy security job when we come of age, and we won't just get “politely” run off-world by the Dracs if they take Caselton. Someday soon _we_ might have to fight and it'll be better if we know how.”

“I suppose so.” Had acknowledged.

“Good. And you're _sure_ you're not even going to try with the girls in this program?” Leone asked him with a sly look.

“Why?” Had asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Because that'd mean I won't have to compete with you for the pair coming up on your left, pal.” Leone winked.

Had almost stumbled trying to subtly take a glance to his left and get a look at them while simultaneously trying to walk in what he perceived to be more laid back and relaxed way, the sort of way that said 'hey I'm down for whatever, you know?' but without being too obvious about it or anything.

Had felt like he had a much better chance with these girls than Leone. He'd inherited his father's striking dark skin, made a tone or two lighter by his Combine-native mother but he'd still manage to pull off 'tall dark and handsome' better than Leone who would pull off 'tall, gangly, obscenely pale and with hair as orange as a carrot' . . . not that there was anything wrong with that . . . some girls liked carrots.

He was surprised when he saw them though. They were probably sisters, they were walking together and they had similar features but the striking thing about them was that their blond hair was so pale it was almost white.

Both wore their hair cut fairly short in an almost military style, their eyes when they came close enough for him to see them were a really unusual sort of icy blue and their skin was ghostly pale. Had wasn't so sure he'd call them 'cute' but they looked interesting, he wouldn't deny that.

Leone was fearless, calling out to the two of them, “Hey, you girls part of this Sibko thing?”

One of them, the elder if Had had to guess raised an eyebrow at them and smirked. She indicated the blue-gray jumpsuits she and her fellow both wore and asked, “Did you guess that, or can you read minds?”

“I thought these were just standard issue, you know?” Leone answered with a smirk of his own. “I'm Lee Chapel, this is Had Reynholm.”

_Since when do you go by Lee?_ Had wondered, raising an eyebrow and Leone who just nudged him with with his elbow.

“Hi.” Had said, and if his voice hadn't chosen to crack at just that moment it absolutely would have been the most suave thing those girls had ever heard, he was sure of it.

The older sister smiled and said, “I'm Vika, this is my sister Rachel.”

“Well met. So you two Fusilier kids or just interested?” Leone asked.

“We come from the Phoenix household.” Rachel said.  
“The Fenix household?” Had was surprised, “You two don't look anything like the ones I've met.”

“No, not Fenix, Phoenix.” Vika said, giving her sister a stern look. “I know that is not much help. We are descended from some of the bondsmen the Fusiliers took from their engagements with the Clans. Since they came without surnames they adopted the surname of the “clan” they had been captured by so they called themselves Phoenix. Rachel is very well aware that you would not know that though, and is having fun at your expense.”

“They could have known it.” Rachel said with a shrug.

Had smirked. Their rather stiff way of talking made sense if they were part Clan, even if it was strange to him. He asked, “So which Clan are you two descended from?”

“We descended from Ragna of Clan Ghost Bear.” Vika told him with noticeable pride.

“Ragna? Isn't she one of the ones that started this?” Had asked.

He didn't think it'd be wise to admit that the reason he remembered her name was because it had sounded so strange to him.

“That is correct,” Vika said with a smile as they walked towards their destination hanger, the four of them falling into step together. “Though our father joined the instructing staff some years ago so that grandmother could withdraw from it. She _is_ over one hundred years old now.”

“One hundred and two.” Rachel said. “She should not be alive, as she keeps telling us.”

“Plenty of people live to be over a hundred these days though.” Had pointed out.

“Not warriors.” Rachel said with a cold finality that made Had just a little uncomfortable.

“At least according to Grandmother,” Vika added with a more friendly grin. “Though we will not be among those that prove her wrong if we do not arrive at the hanger on time.”

“We didn't mean to slow you down,” Leone—or _Lee_ , Had supposed—said, “So what's the other founding instructor like? I hear she's an Elemental.”

“She is. Ryza Helmer is her name, and she continues to train the unit although she is not much younger than grandmother.” Rachel said.

Had felt conflicted. On the one hand the idea of learning anything from some old woman seemed . . . well, boring and mundane. But an old woman who used to be a Jade Falcon elemental? That could be interesting even if the Clans weren't the monster bogeymen of the Inner Sphere anymore this one hailed from a time when they were, didn't she?

Maybe he'd been wrong to think the worst of this program, maybe Leone was actually right to be optimistic . . . or maybe it was just the company that put Had himself in a more optimistic mood.

But he didn't have much more time to dwell on it before they reached the hanger. As the double door opened to reveal the spacious building full of people he was surprised to see the large number of youths and immediately the thought occurred to him that this must be why he'd seen so few kids his own age around.

_They're all here? Not on Embrasure?_ Hadrian thought in surprise. _They can't all want to be mercenaries, can they?_

His father had mentioned that the Fusiliers would set some program graduates up with scholarships to military academies or enrollment in the planetary militia. Had supposed it was possible that on a world like Caselton military service, whether in the militia or the mercenary trade was probably about the only thing other than farm life on a world too dry and cold to grow much anyway that a young person might look at as a bright future.

It was understandable, but a stark contrast to Cartago where everyone his age wanted to be a scientist or a business executive. _Sometimes I have to remind myself I've only come to a different planet,_ Had thought, _instead of a different successor state!_

But as surprising as seeing so many representatives of his own generation the real surprise was seeing Ryza Helmer. The first word he could think of to describe her was of course _tall_. She was easily more than two meters tall, however beyond height the idea that the woman was nearly a hundred years old seemed ludicrous. He wouldn't mistake her for a spring chicken, but her powerful frame and thick corded muscle belonged to a woman at _worst_ in her forties, her face though weathered hardly looked any older than his own mother's.

Her hair was silver, no doubt due to age but she carried herself with ease from one side of the hanger to the other like a lioness stalking back and forth turning a glaring eye on the gathering of youths.

There were two other adults with her, one was shorter than she was—no surprise, it just meant he was _normal—_ and bore an obvious resemblance to Vika and Rachel making it easy to tell that he was the father the two had mentioned. Their father had icy blue eyes just like theirs, but his were stern and commanding. Had could only imagine the rigid upbringing such a man would inflict on his children, and took a moment to privately reprimand himself for thinking such harsh thoughts about his own father for simply enrolling him in the program.

_At least my dad doesn't have a glare that could chill an overheating BattleMech!_ Had thought.

The other man was another giant, only slightly shorter than Ryza with slightly darker skin and raven black hair. His eyes weren't as severe as the other's, but he didn't exactly look friendly either.

“That is our grandfather, Ragnar,” Vika whispered to him and Lee, “the other man is Marcus, he is descended from Ryza.”

“I'm not surprised.” Lee whispered back.

As if she could hear them over the gentle roar of a dozen different conversations being had in the hanger Ryza's gaze seemed to fall on Had and the others and he felt his heart stop as if he were a deer caught in the gaze of a mountain lion.

Ryza raised her chin and Ragnar blew a sharp whistle causing the room to fall instantly silent and the students suddenly stood at parade rest.

Had quickly followed suit, but he couldn't help asking, “Were we late or something?”

Vika bumped him lightly with her elbow, darting her eyes towards the instructors and Had took the hint and said nothing more as Ragnar took his turn stalking up and down the line. He was less noticeable than Ryza but still intimidating in the act.

He barked, “Delta, Epsilon, front! Cadets Hadrian and Leone, front!”

Rachel and Vika both rushed forward along with six other individuals, Hadrian and Leone followed after them feeling utterly confused.

Had they done something wrong?

Ragnar glowered at them and said, “Hadrian and Leone are new recruits. Leone is assigned to Delta, Hadrian is assigned to Epsilon, get them caught up then proceed to the Bay for practice exercises.”

_The Bay . . . as in the Mechbay?_ Had's eyes widened in shock. His first day and already he was going to be piloting a BattleMech?

Their group of about ten including himself and Leone headed for the doors while the instructors continued talking to the rest of the assembled youths. Had didn't mind, all of his reservations about the _Pack Hunter II_ disappeared in an instant and suddenly he could far more easily see why so many joined this program. _Now_ this _is the way to spend your time away from school,_ Had thought excitedly.

He was so excited he couldn't focus as Lee tried to ask questions of the rest of their group on their way. From what Had _did_ gather it seemed like Lee was trying to get details about their training and he wasn't getting satisfactory answers. A part of Had wondered why they wouldn't answer those questions if their job was, as Ragnar had said, to get them caught up.

None of them seemed all that excited either, in fact they seemed almost dour as they went. Had couldn't help but think they must be far too jaded, if the thought of piloting a Mech didn't thrill them at least a little bit they were enrolled in a program that would put them into the wrong field of work.

Still he tried to conceal his own excitement to better blend in, which turned out to be a wise move.

It helped him not to look like quite as foolish when the excitement gave way to disappointment as the group made their way from the hanger to a small building far from large enough to house even one BattleMech, and far from the Mechbay.

The nature of things soon became far more clear as the group entered and Had saw the rows of white egg-shaped pods.

“Simulators?” Leone gawked.

“Of course,” Had scoffed, “What, did you think they'd put us in actual Mechs the first day?”

“These are top of the line simulators. The sort they would have had at Sakhara or NAIS.” Vika said firmly.

“Would have had? As if a few decades ago?” Had asked skeptically.

It was his disappointment speaking, and he regretted the sulky remark as soon as he'd said it. He expected the remark to earn him some sort of disapproving looks but to his surprise the other cadets actually laughed. Even Vika cracked a smile, letting him know that at least she wasn't thin skinned.

One of the others, a lanky boy nearly as tall as Leone, but darker in complexion and with hair and eyes that betrayed a clear Draconis descent—not that Had had any problem with that—said, “He's got you there, Vika.”

“Yes, he _has_.” Vika said with emphasis.

Had didn't understand why until the other boy told her, “Oh come on, Ryza isn't here to hear us use contractions.”

“Integrity is how you behave when no one else is around.” A girl with long raven hair and lips to colored to match said with a wink.

“Thank you, Aaliyah,” Vika said to the girl, “As for you, Hikaru, consider Hadrian your shadow for today.”

“That's racist.” Hikaru scoffed, now Hadrian couldn't help but laugh.

Vika blushed and seemed about to say something else but her sister cut in.

“Vika, Hadrian and Hikaru are in Epsilon. You do not give them orders.”

Vika raised an eyebrow at Rachel, but after a moment she nodded and said, “You are correct. I will see to Delta. We will engage in twenty minutes.”

“Bargained well and done.” Another cadet said. This one bore a resemblance to Hikaru bordered on outright copy. Were it not for their very different styles of haircut, Hikaru's short shaggy and unkempt and this other boy's straight, shoulder-length and well-groomed Had might have thought they were the same person.

Still he spoke with a finality that Vika and the rest seemed to accept. She, Leone, and four others went to the row of simulators on the far side of the room, leaving Had with Hikaru, Rachel, Aaliyah, this new guy and a sixth member of Epsilon, a boy slightly taller than Had, but shorter than Hikaru and Leone. He had slightly too-long blond hair and a lithe build, his skin was pale only a shade or so darker than Vika and Rachel's near paper-white complexion.

Introductions proceeded quickly after that with Hikaru's doppelganger turning out to be his identical twin brother Rio, and the quiet member of their group was named Teyrn.

Rio was the leader of Epsilon, Vika was the leader of Delta, on her team was Leone and a few others that Had would just have to remember when he met them properly because it was all rather a lot for him to take in. After all he'd gone from being one of only a few youths his in his age range on the base to suddenly part of a sort of training squad with other training squads as well. It would be a lot of people to get to know.

Still, Hadrian would give Leone credit for one thing at least. He had been right about there being lots of cute girls.

 


	8. Practice Makes Perfect

— **==Chapter 7==—**

 

**Glacier Sea near Craius' Cache**

**Angol**

**Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation**

**July 4th, 3145**

 

The glacier seas of Angol were wide, long, featureless and freezing. Even in the cockpit of a BattleMech at full run Bowen could feel the chill.

Because the freezing climate of Angol was nothing like the climate on Tikonov the Dai Da Chi Mechs were operating with adjustments made to their heat sinks to make them less efficient. For the three _Cataphracts_ in Bowen's lance it would no doubt be a blessing once the exercise began in earnest and they could begin making gratuitous use of their ER PPCs.

The engagement wouldn't help matters for Bowen himself though. With dual Gauss Rifles as its main armament _Boyue_ never ran very hot, even moving along at what the _Cyclops_ counted as a run the heat build up was minor and gradual. Even so the warrior of House Dai Da Chi did not complain and told himself that a true servant of the Celestial Throne should be impervious to such worldly things as climate.

An inhospitable world to say the least Angol counted its population in the mere tens of millions, and the lower end at that. As such even drilling near the capital city of Craius' Cache would disturb few and the gathering force that would be attacking Tikonov had been working tirelessly since their arrival.

More and more units kept arriving as well, with even the second McCarron's Armored Cavalry making an appearance, though there was no sign of Danai Liao-Centrella in their ranks.

A shame because Bowen would have dearly liked to test himself against the woman deemed worthy of inheriting _Yen-Lo-Wang,_ even if there was a weight disparity between her Mech and his he would gladly have borrowed a lighter Mech to test himself against the Mech that had served two generations of Solaris champions.

_Instead these Burr's Black Cobras will have to suffice for the day,_ Bowen thought.

If nothing else their light and speedy Mechs would be good approximations for those of the 4th Federated Suns Lancers, who favored light and medium Mechs and high speed lightning strike tactics.

Though there was little honor in defeating Mercenaries and even some dishonor in facing them at all. Bowen would take whatever opportunities he could get to sharpen his skills and he expected the same from his lance. For that matter if this beating could teach the Cobras anything that might make them more useful in the liberation of Tikonov then he'd suffer a little dishonor now for the honor Tikonov's return would bring the Capellan people and their Chancellor.

At least that was what he'd told himself when he took the challenge. Because of the weight disparity between their forces of course Bowen's single lance would be facing off against two lances of the lighter mercenaries.

Taking advantage of their Stealth Armor the trio of _Cataphracts_ followed in Bowen's wake like a pack of hungry wolves in the distance.

Of course it was not him that they hunted, instead they were using his more heavily armored _Cyclops_ as bait.

The Cobras for their part were not using any Mechs with the stealth armor technology. It was possible that they couldn't afford them, or that they simply didn't rate high enough in the Confederation's estimations of loyalty to earn the right to purchase them from the Confederation's market. Though stealth armor was a source of deserved pride to the Capellan people loyal mercenary units—in addition to their close allies in the Magistracy of Canopus and the Taurian Concordat—were allowed use of the technology as well.

The Cobras were not so blessed.

“Zhanshi One, this is Zhanshi Four, I have eyes on a pair of UrbanMechs.” Joseph Ubina reported.

“UrbanMechs?” Bowen asked, “I'm not reading anything on my sensors.”

_Was the tactical report of their strength wrong? Did they deceive me into believing they had no Stealth armor?_ Bowen wondered.

“They're shut down, Pai-zhang. They're hiding from sensors and using the cold to mask their heat, but I have eyes on them.”

Bowen smirked, _Leave it to a man who spent most of his career in a scout Mech to have sharp eyes. Clever of the mercenaries at least._

He gave the order, “If you can see the rats then pounce, Four. Zhanshi Three, support Zhanshi Four, Zhanshi Two continue as planned and see if the rest of the snakes slither out.”

“As ordered, Pai-zhang,” Sing Sun and Chung MacDade said in unison. Ubina and MacDade stalked off across the glacier plains in pursuit of some unseen prey but Sun's _Cataphract_ carried on following Bowen, who slowed his pace just in case the rest of the Black Cobras were similarly waiting in ambuscade.

Looking over _Boyue's_ large dark green shoulder he could see the bolts of blue light from Ubina's PPC as he opened fire both to strike at his target and to more easily direct MacDade's eyes to the enemy's location.

The exchange was brief, either _Cataphract_ enough to out-mass both _UrbanMechs_ together.

_There they are,_ Bowen thought smiling with satisfaction as seven targets appeared on his sensors.

The Cobra Mechs powering up forced to abandon their ambush plans thanks to Ubina's sharp eyes.

The Mechs hastily painted in tundra camouflage emerged, half buried in snow revealing how across the featureless hills Bowen could have missed them.

_Sensors read one_ UrbanMech _to the rear near Ubina and MacDade,_ Bowen thought, the two must seeming to have accounted for the second _UrbanMech_ already. The rest of the enemy lance to the rear were a _Sha Yu_ and a _Centurion_ , two old but respectable medium designs.

To the front however Bowen could read a _Clint,_ a _Vindicator,_ a _Men Shen_ and an old mercenary staple _Firefly_. They had clearly planned to catch his _Cyclops_ between them all reducing the effectiveness of his long range weapons. Unfortunately now the far lance was out of position to support their spotted brethren forcing them to charge from a distance leaving them open to _Boyue's_ twin Gauss Rifles.

Bowen did consider that it would have been an effective tactic, but he also considered that it would only have worked because he was going to travel through the engagement zone. _Against an enemy in the field your ambush could have waited all day long and caught nothing. Even here if I'd decided to travel along the edge of the agreed corridor instead of through it your trap would have been worthless._

He wanted to believe that the mercenaries had correctly judged that a bold and proud Dai Da Chi warrior would brazenly march through the center of the zone, which he had. However he could not shake the prejudice that the mercenaries had simply gotten lucky because he held them in such low regard to begin with. _If you were smart you would have used one of your fastest Mechs to lure me in at least. And even if you did calculate this I will show you_ why _a Dai Da Chi Pai-zhang strolls boldly._

“Zhanshi Lance, engage. Zhanshi two, take the _Vindicator._ ” Bowen gave the order calmly, resolving that the Men Shen would be his prey. In addition to being the heaviest mercenary Mech and likely the commander's it was a Confederation designed OmniMech, and if his sensor readout was correct it was sporting its MS1-OB configuration which consisted of Extended Range Medium Lasers and dual LB 2-X Autocannons. Long range weaponry, albeit with a far milder bite than his _Cyclops'_ Gauss Rifles.

The warrior thought grinning a wolfish grin as he lined up his shots. The birdlike Mech was making a commendable attempt to weave but it wouldn't matter.

Bowen was an exceptional marksman, even with dummy rounds.

Bowen could imagine the twin iron-nickel slugs from his Gauss Rifles hurtling towards the _Men Shen_ , one of them striking its left arm, knocking it off of its stride and to the ground, the other ripping a hole through the armor of its sloping center torso.

But it was just imagination. The mock rounds did nothing like that sort of damage to the physical Mech, instead simply reading as if it had on the targeting computer's wire-frame damage readout. Bowen might as well have been throwing snow balls for all the actual damage their weapons would do in this engagement, still he could take some satisfaction from the fact that barring an exceptional pilot at the controls of the _Men Shen,_ were this anything other than a mere training exercise he would have sent the Mech crashing to the icy ground with his opening salvo.

Sun lit up the _Vindicator_ with his ER PPC, bathing its humanoid left in blue man-made lightning. In rel combat the armor would have melted away exposing myomer muscle and endosteel skeleton, perhaps even fusing the shoulder but Bowen forced himself to live in reality even if the mundane nature of training with mercenaries all but begged him escape into his imagination.

_Training the mercenaries more like,_ he thought, _there is little my lance can gain from this except to sharpen our skills and help Ubina grow accustomed to his Mech._

The _Cataphract 4L_ also put its own Gauss Rifle to use only to miss by no small margin.

The _Men Shen_ returned fire with just one of its Autocannons, perhaps its computer was reporting the damage to the left arm as severe enough to disable the weapon, or perhaps the weapon itself had simply jammed.

Either way the shot missed. Not so for the _Clint_ , both of its ruby red large lasers stabbing into _Boyue's_ left leg.

_Not the left leg!_ Bowen thought irritably.

The quicker Cobra Mechs closed the distance and opened fire, focusing on Bowen's _Cyclops._

He was shaken by fire from the _Clint_ again, its pilot charging in at a perilous speed and bringing his Mech's ER Medium Laser to bear in the fight. The pilot managed to hit with all three beams, this time striking _Boyue's_ left and right torso. Bowen smirked regarding the _Clint_ pilot as somewhat skilled, but not enough to truly impress him. _If you could strike the same target with that sort of accuracy I might be impressed. Here, let me show you how it is done . . ._

Bowen unleashed his Gauss Rifles again as soon as their cycle was complete, this time he added his LRM 10 to the bargain. Again he struck the Men Shen in the center torso and the left arm, this time his wire-frame diagram read the left arm as completely destroyed and the Center Torso flashing red indicating that his second shot had finished its armor and penetrated to its internal structure.

The Mech would be crippled, to press on any further invited absolute destruction.

Bowen further pushed his Mech, firing his dual Medium Lasers at the _Firefly_ before it could get too close. He struck the Mech's oval-shaped torso and raked its legs with his SRM 6 though he didn't expect much damage from that.

The _Firefly_ returned fire with its twin ER Medium Lasers, this time actually managing to score hits on _Boyue's_ left leg.

_Someone told them about that leg,_ Bowen thought. _Not Alexi, but somehow these fools learned about the damage I took there, this cannot be a coincidence._

At least Bowen thought so, but he quickly considered that the _Firefly_ pilot might simply have been aiming for the location that had already taken the most direct damage.

Sun fired on the _Clint_ this time, unleashing his Mech's full arsenal. The twin ER Medium Lasers and ER PPC washed over the Mech's right side, but again Sun missed with the Gauss Rifle.

Bowen wondered if there was something wrong with the weapon itself. _If he misses again I'll have Alexi take a look at it, if he doesn't I'll force him to log twelve hours of simulator time to make up fro his poor performance against these plebes._

The exercise carried on, the _Clint_ continuing to be a source of irritation, even managing to get behind _Boyue_ for a time. Bowen knew to trust his lancemate to deal with the threat to his back as he finished off the Men Shen with a final salvo to its ravaged center torso.

And deal with it Sun did, savaging the _Clint's_ head with his ER PPC, forcing the pilot to admit defeat in a single well aimed shot that, as far as the computers were concerned, had taken the head clean off of the Mech.

With their heaviest and the most skilled warriors defeated that the rest of his lance was easy enough to deal with, their speed and determination little the Dai Da Chi warriors couldn't handle. By the time that MacDade and Ubina had finished their lance Bowen was finishing the _Vindicator_.

His Mech's Gauss Rifle ammunition had been spent, so it was left to his medium lasers to do the job, finally carving the heart out of the Mech's center torso and finishing the exercise.

As the smoke cleared the readouts warned him that _Boyue_ had taken severe, even crippling damage. The armor all along its right side was gone, the internal structure of its right leg—easing his suspicion that they had been intentionally targeting his left—was nearly gone as well. Were this a real battle his _Cyclops_ would have been limping back on a limb more memory than fact.

All the same they had prevailed and though _Boyue_ had taken heavy damage the lance's _Cataphracts_ had escaped the spat with minimal injury. Bowen refused to acknowledge any degree of skill on the part of the Black Cobras being involved in his Mech's damage, rather he chalked it up to _Boyue_ being an easier target since it lacked stealth armor.

Bowen smirked as the Black Cobras' lead Mechwarrior, somewhat unsurprisingly the pilot of the _Clint,_ broadcast his congratulations.

“You certainly showed us a thing or two. It's no wonder they say Dai Da Chi is the best.” The Mechwarrior whose name Bowen hadn't even bothered to remember said with a voice that betrayed a mixture of awe and frustration.

Bowen feigned graciousness saying, “It was always a mismatch from weight alone, Major, but your men gave a good accounting of themselves. It will be a pleasure to have you at our side when we take Tikonov.”

“We won't let you down. We might have gotten whooped in this training exercise, but you can bet we'll give the Feds what for once the real deal starts up.”

“See that you do. Pai-zhang Jiang out.” Bowen said, allowing a little too much of his actual dismissive attitude to creep into his response. On a private channel to his own lance he said, “Good eyes, Ubina. But take no pride in our victory, we defeated a foe that was our inferior in all ways except numbers. This, gentlemen, is simply what is expected of us.”

“Understood, Pai-zhang.” Ubina responded.

“Sun,” Jiang added, “I am going to have my own technician take a look at your Mech, your performance with that Gauss Rifle falls far short of what I would expect from you, however I will not lay the blame at the feet of the machine alone. After Alexi has had a look I expect you to hit the practice range until you can return with the same skill I've come to expect from the rest of this lance, is that clear?”

“Perfectly so. I will do as ordered, Pai-zhang.”

“Very good. Ubina, you will accompany him for the added experience in your heavy Mech. Now let us return to base and get out of this accursed cold.”

The lance of Mechs made their way back to base, the far fasterBurr's Black Cobras leaving them in the proverbial dust of course. As they went Bowen did consider however the damage dealt to his Mech.

Against a light to medium lance his _Cyclops_ had suffered the sort of devastation that might have made a lesser Mechwarrior eject from sheer panic . . . would he be unwise to ignore the skill of mere mercenaries?

_You simply wish to see skill in all those who serve the Confederation. Do not let yourself be fooled,_ he told himself, _no mercenary will ever be a match for the warriors of House Dai Da Chi._

 


	9. Interesting Times

— **==Chapter 8==—**

 

**Dive-bar, Battlement City**

**Embrasure, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**July 24th, 3145**

 

Though Jules could respect brand honesty the name “Dive-bar” struck him as being entirely too on-the-nose for an actual dive bar. He supposed that it could have been unintentional, the name perhaps referencing something to do with sea diving that the Mechwarrior knew nothing about. But intentional or unintentional it fit his definition of a “dive bar” quite well.

The place was near a marina and though Caselton was not particularly known for its abundant ocean life it certainly stank of fish and the sea. Being a Mechwarrior he had expected to stick out like a sore thumb, but it seemed his contact had chosen the place well, and Jules found that by far a majority of the patrons were muscular rugged-looking men like himself.

Actually he couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of any other sort of patron, but he dismissed it. He wasn't there to seek out a dalliance partner and it wasn't his place to wonder about where all the women were on this backwater world.

He spotted the person he _was_ there to meet sitting in a booth near the far corner of the bar and when their eyes met they motioned for him to come and join them.

The mercenary Mechwarrior did so, though he was a little surprised. He'd assumed they'd meet in a more clandestine manner, he'd imagined covert whispering from opposite booths or an intricate system of drink ordering though of course he knew that all of that could very well be his own imagination getting the better of him.

If sharing a booth was what his employer desired then so be it.

He took a seat and his employer smiled slightly, which was all Jules would get by way of greeting as the shadowy figure said, “Report.”

Jules looked around, and his employer told him, “It's fine, I have people here and this place has been watched. You can speak freely, though not too loudly if you please.”

The Mechwarrior nodded and said, “All right then. Fenix is meeting with Legate Popadic, and General Finnegan right now to discuss the plans for the battle of Caselton. Ariyoshi is with her, so she can report later on how it goes. Lindsay said she'd selling them on the idea of the full Swordsworn brigade showing up, but truthfully she doesn't believe Groell will send them. Not with the rumors of how close the Combine is getting to New Avalon.”

His employer took a sip from a drink that looked suspiciously like muddy water and said, “That's understandable. But if I know Erik, and I like to imagine I do, he'll send her at least a token force. Likely those he deems as lacking in loyalty to him personally, people he'd likely have thrown away against the Combine anyway.”

Jules frowned and asked, “With all due respect, are you sure you still know him? Don't misunderstand me, it's just I've fought alongside the man and I've been at his side for years since he took control of the Swordsworn and . . . honestly even I can't quite get a read on him. It's almost like he's two radically different people at times.”

The employer laughed and said, “I wouldn't go that far. He's very good at being who he needs to be in the moment, very good at making you believe him and trust him. Once he knows you, once he knows what you expect from him he'll live up to it until he has you.”

“Understood.” Jules lied.

But the shadowy figure wasn't fooled. They said, “I trust Erik to be himself. That means he will look out for himself to the best of his abilities, and for the moment that means that he must keep the Federated Suns from falling. That means he needs to protect New Avalon for as long as possible and keep the Draconis March from complete collapse. However barring any promises from Daoshen Liao to make him the Duke of the Sarna Commonality—which I haven't ruled out—he'll recognize the importance of a victory symbol on the Capellan front. Not only if, but _especially if_ he believes New Avalon is about to fall.”

“Especially if that victory is his instead of his Uncle's?” Jules guessed.

“Well his uncle isn't part of the equation anymore, so he has nothing to worry about on that front.” The employer reminded Jules before taking another sip of their drink and continuing, “Since Fenix isn't on his level politically speaking it will be far easier for him to usurp her successes as his own, especially if he gives her the symbol she needs—Swordsworn forces to spread the rallying cry in the Capellan March that common men and women _can_ make a difference in this game of nobility.”

_So to speak,_ Jules thought. As a freeborn Jules knew a thing or two about being looked down on as lesser than those around him but the Inner Sphere's nobility system really struck him as being more of the same but on a grander scale. The nobles might as well be Trueborn and the rest of the galaxy Freeborn for all it seemed to matter to them.

In truth that was why he had emigrated to the Republic of the Sphere . . . there nobility was less set in stone, service brought citizenship and citizenship opened doors.

Not that that had stopped him joining Duke Aaron with the rest of the Ghost Legion when the time came. Citizenship was nice but money was just as good at opening doors.

Even though he'd been born to a Clan with—at the time—the strictest adherence to Kerensky's old visions of noble warrior uprightness Jules had to admit that being a mercenary was the life he was born for.

He liked to fight and he didn't care who or what he was fighting as long as he got paid to do it.

“It would further help Erik when our absentee Prince returns. I imagine Julian Davion will be magnanimous enough not to sack Erik outright, especially if he has no one with whom to replace him, however it would help Erik's case with the man if he could point to some successes under his watch.”

Jules could understand that. He asked his employer, “Do you want me to report on Fenix's success with the General and the Legate?”

“No need. I already know how it will go. Johnetta Popadic will balk at the idea of inviting any attack on her world, especially without its defenses finished. She'll likely suggest Fenix take her forces to reinforce Tikonov instead, but as Ariyoshi will point out that would be a mistake. Tikonov is too important to the Confederation for them to afford a second failure, the force that hits it the second time will absolutely dwarf the three regiments that struck in May. She'll put Fenix off for now with some empty promises and meaningless talk, but she'll agree to the plan when Tikonov falls.”

“How can you be sure?” Jules asked, surprised by his employer's presumption to just . . . _guess_ how things would turn out.

“Once Tikonov falls Caselton is just a quick jump away, and Popadic will start to recognize how vulnerable the world is with just three mostly incomplete regiments as protection, especially if the retreating Federated Suns Lancers are pulled to other worlds like Kentares IV or even Exeter.”

“Exeter?” Jules asked in surprise.

“Or Kentares, and that's just a guess,” His employer admitted with a slight shrug, “But it's where I would send the forces if I had to. Exeter is a relative stronghold away from the fighting with the Confederation giving them a chance to reform. I'm sure the Combine has designs for it but I haven't heard of any outright moves for it yet and their focus is as we've discussed firmly on New Avalon, other worlds are likely to be a second thought to them for now.

“With its bloody history Kentares is likely to get away with being deemed more trouble than it's worth for a while longer, unless the Combine really is engaging in the sort of brutality rumors claim they'd never control a populace that radically against Draconis rule.”

Jules nodded accepting the answer, though he would have thought any forces retreating from Tikonov would come to Caselton just out of proximity.

“In any event,” His client continued, “I know Major General Edward Finnegan. Especially after New Hessen he will be spoiling for a fight and luring the Capellans to Caselton will make even more sense then than it does now, especially if he anticipates three regiments of reinforcements from dear Erik.”

“And if those three regiments don't come? How can Caselton stand if Tikonov falls?” Jules asked more out of concern for his life than for the world.

“Caselton will stand _because_ Tikonov has fallen. Daoshen's pushing too far too fast and he's had too much success . . . _far_ too much . . .” The Employer said with a slightly baleful look in their eyes before taking another sip of their muddy drink. “Tikonov is a crown jewel of the Confederation, they will send whatever they can at her. But Caselton? Mere icing on the cake, and I trust Fenix to be able to fend off a few fat kids.”

Jules reasoned, “In other words they won't attack Caselton with the same force they attack Tikonov with.”

“If Dai Da Chi is provoked directly they will likely send a _portion_ of their forces to exact revenge, but the won't risk sending everything off of Tikonov. If they view the Fusiliers as their specific target they will likely send no more than one of their battalions believing it sufficient to exterminate a mercenary force that, to the best of their knowledge contains just one BattleMech battalion of its own.”

“The best of their knowledge would be quite accurate,” Jules said, “The regiment doesn't even have a full Command Company. As I understand it they have a number of Pack Hunter IIs that aren't actually fit for combat that they use for training new Mechwarriors, but outside of the first battalion the best they have are some industrial MODs . . . Dig Lords and Carbines mostly.”

“For now.” The employer said with a slight nod, “But I intend to arrange the Command Company Fenix needs, it will give me greater control over the unit itself and . . . well, lets just say that if Lindsay is smart she'll take advantage of another opportunity I'm sending her way in the coming weeks.”

“If she's smart?” Jules asked, “She's never struck me as terribly unintelligent.”

“When she lost her arm she spent half a decade drowning in a bottle, she's no Justin Allard.”

“Perhaps, but who is?” Jules asked, trying not to let on that he really had no idea who Justin Allard was.

The client though seemed to accept the answer with a slight raise of their glass, “Fair enough. Still she's useful, I recognized that from the start. She's not nobility but she has the financial assets to help alleviate too much of the cost of things coming back onto my own pocket book and she's loyal to the Suns to boot. She's someone who doesn't have any loyalty to Erik outside of his office, but also not someone he would view as a threat. In all those things Fenix meets my expectations, but she'll need to show me her intellect as well as her loyalty and ability if she wants to be brought any further into this little circle of ours.”

Jules shrugged and said, “If you like.”

“Getting back to the forces likely to hit Caselton I anticipate another two regiments to account for the militia and the Second Lancers, but no more than three in total, that could leave Tikonov too exposed. That means that no matter what Erik sends the enemy is either met on even footing or they're outnumbered. Add to that the home field advantage so to speak, and the large donation I'll be making to help in the speedy restoration of Caselton's defenses just in case Popadic needs some extra confidence and there will be no better chance to bloody the Confederation's nose.

“But if they _do_ win Caselton has no important exports and contributes little to the grand scheme of the Federated Suns outside of a history of loyalty that would almost guarantee a popular uprising that would make the world more trouble than it's worth for the Confederation just like Kentares is for the Combine. Furthermore the same underground networks that allowed members of the Fusiliers and the resistance to oppose the Word of Blake sixty years ago will let them do the same to the Capellans.”

Jules couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine at the thought of the thoroughness of his employer's scheming. How much of this could they be right about? Surely not all of it. If they were Jules couldn't help but wonder why stake the fight on Caselton?

As his employer had said the world boasted nothing by way of exports apart from loyalty to the Suns. Having been on-world a while Jules could confidently say that the world's militaristic style appealed to the clanner in him but its population was sparse and truthfully its importance seemed . . . limited.

It mattered to Lindsay because it was her home, he understood that. But what would it matter to the Confederation outside of its proximity to Tikonov? And with rumors of Liao brutality to non-compliant worlds what was to stop Daoshen Liao from simply . . . making an example of Caselton's small populace?

_If we fail Caselton could end up being a symbol of fear in the Capellan March rather than one of hope,_ Jules thought.

He couldn't help but tell his employer, “We certainly live in interesting times.”

“There was a time when an expression along those lines was considered a curse,” his employer said, “and I have to admit some days it does seem as if the Federated Suns has fallen under one.”

Jules wouldn't disagree with that, though he didn't believe in curses personally. A man made his own luck though if the worst should fall on Caselton Jules just hoped _his_ own luck didn't run out.

 


	10. Merchants and Mercenaries

— **==Chapter 9==—**

 

**Dropship _DeLeon_**

**Jumpship _Arnhem,_ Sakhara Jump Point**

**New Samarkand Military District, Draconis Combine**

**August 23rd, 3145**

 

Over the near two-month trip from Caselton to Sakhara V the cargo-bay of the Union Class Dropship _DeLeon_ had practically become a home away from home for Elim. Other than tinkering with _Caladbolg_ he'd passed the trip spending time with Alayne or studying, both of which he could do in the passenger quarters but did in abundance in the cargo-bay instead since at least there he could do all three sometimes all at once.

Outside of that there wasn't much to do on the long journey other than try to keep in shape in the Union's small gymnasium. Though if they were particularly lucky they might get to go aboard the _Arnhem,_ the Invader-class Jumpship the _DeLeon_ had been hitched to for the journey and literally watch grass grow in one of its two Hydroponics domes.

The _DeLeon_ was a Union-class Dropship, but it wasn't like the military version used by the Fenix Fusiliers and virtually every other mercenary unit or House military in the Inner Sphere. Instead it was refitted for carrying cargo rather than BattleMechs, its twelve BattleMech stalls having been removed a long time ago for use in the family's trade business.

Though two stalls had been restored to the bay to accommodate the two Assault Mechs. After all they weren't the sort of thing one could just shove into a crate with some packing peanuts.

Elim was a Mechwarrior, not a technician, and Chief O'Bannon had assigned two of his own people to keep the Mechs in good working order on the journey before the Academy's technicians would assume stewardship. But until that time both young Mechwarriors had taken every opportunity to learn what they could about the upkeep of their Mechs from O'Bannon's staff. The tinkering did serve a purpose as well in helping both of them to grow accustomed to their new machines and their quirks.

Every Mech had its own little quirks, Cadence Kirk, the technician looking after _Godhand_ had told them. To a tech a Mech's little quirks were like its personality. Did it have a joint prone to locking up? Was there a weapon or a system that tended to overheat for no discernible reason? Every Mech, Cadence insisted, was capable of displaying its own little personality as she called it.

Of course Cadence, and Paul—the Tech assigned to Caladbolg—didn't have to work too hard to explain the basics to the two Mechwarriors. The pair had learned basic Mech care when they were with the sibko, it was something Jhonen had been adamant about. A Mechwarrior in the field didn't have to know how to fix a Mech, but they should know how to perform basic functions and maintenance for his machine, and it was something Elim understood most academies expected as well, Sakhara among them.

After all one never knew when one might be cut off from any sort of support network after all.

He was standing by the foot of the Mech giving it a final look over before their arrival when Alayne came into the bay. She'd been doing similar work on her _Godhand_ and it wasn't unusual for the two of them to be awake before most of the rest of the ship and already in the cargo-bay. Elim had to admit the both of them had been doting on the Mechs to no small degree. Even Paul and Cadence didn't spend as much time around the two towering titans.

“We'll be separating from the _Arnhem_ soon, you've still got a three day trip to tinker with _Cally_.” Alayne called out to him as she approached, clearing the large cargo-bay in long strides and asking him, “Have you eaten yet?”

“I am fine.” Elim answered her.

“That's not what I asked, E.” Alayne told him.

Elim smiled and said, “If you are hungry just get something.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms. “It's no wonder you're the shortest in your family, you never eat anything!”

“I am still taller than you. Not that that says much,” Elim smirked at her and Alayne smirked right back.

At one point eight five she was anything but short, still due to his ancestry Elim stood over her and she reminded him,“I don't have Elemental blood so I'm actually quite tall.”

“Are you certain? About the lack of Elemental ancestry I mean. Your grandmother is from a Bekker-Jorgenson line is she not? You _might_ have an Elemental ancestor somewhere along the way which would take you back to being short.”

“Seeing as I'm a head taller than my mother I think I got this way on my own.” Alayne said.

“So you admit you are just some sort of genetic anomaly?” Elim asked her with a look of mock triumph.

Alayne laughed and said, “Just like you, eh? Come on, we can do this all afternoon but let's get something from the mess first.”

Elim leaned against _Caladbolg's_ foot and asked, “You have other friends, do you not?”

Alayne came over and leaned against _Caladbolg's_ leg as well, sweeping long blond bangs out of her eyes to better give him a stern look. “What's that got to do with anything?”

Elim shrugged and said, “You could ask Cadence to join you for lunch.”

Alayne laughed and said, “You know very well that I don't spend time with you due to a lack of better options, E. Anyway Cadence and Paul aren't getting off on Sakhara with us, but me you're stuck with. Now are you going to come with me, or am I going to drag you?”

Elim sighed and said, “All right, I will go. Truly though, why does it matter?”

“Because you're as nervous as I am about finally reaching the end of our journey. When you're nervous if I don't make sure you eat something you'll forget to eat anything.”

“Those are Marcus's words coming out of your mouth.” Elim scoffed. His older brother liked to interfere and poke his nose where it didn't belong, but it seemed even being off-world wasn't enough to escape Marcus's incessant mother-henning.

“I've known you long enough now to have picked up on it for myself,” Alayne told him. “Anyway if it weren't true I wouldn't have to listen, would I?”

Elim sighed again and allowed, “Perhaps. But truly I am not _that_ nervous. Not about Sakhara at least.”

“You're not?” Alayne asked him.

Elim shrugged and told her, “This is going to be the first time I set foot on a planet other than Caselton . . . but it is at a time when Caselton's future is so uncertain. What if in two years when you and I are headed home . . . it is not there anymore? I mean what if the Confederation takes it?”

“Or the Combine.” Alayne nodded in agreement. “Trust me, I've thought the same thing. We just have to hope for the best for those back home and do our best here.”

“Well said, but still I cannot stop thinking when I look at _Caladbolg_ that Caselton would be a lot safer if she were back there. It is one thing to show the flag and impress future clients but it is another to waste such a war machine when it could be leading from the front.”

“Remember, these Mechs are just Mechs,” Alayne told him. “They're powerful but they're not invincible. They can neither take nor defend a world on their own. If Caselton is going to stand or fall it'll be because of a lot more than one _Daishi._ Aunt Lindsay will do fine with her _Victor_ and more importantly her regiment _._ ”

Elim smiled and nodded. “I will try to keep that in mind.”

“And try not to worry so much?”

He nodded again and confirmed, “And try not to worry so much.”

Alayne rolled her eyes and said, “Liar.”

He smirked and got up and Alayne took his arm and started to lead him out of the cargo-bay towards the _DeLeon's_ mess hall, though they hadn't yet left the bay when the door slid open again and Cadence came running in.

Unlike Elim—and Alayne for that matter—Cadence was of a reasonable average height. Her brown hair was cut short she said so it wouldn't get in the way when she worked on the Mechs, which Elim highly respected and though she was several years their senior she had a youthful energy and outlook that made her feel more like a peer than Paul who was actually closer to their own age.

“H-hey,” She called to them, stammering and nervous, “the Captain t-told me to find you two, he uh . . . he needs you on the uh . . . the bridge! Right away!”

“What happened?” Alayne asked with clear concern in her voice no doubt at the sight of seeing Cadence looking so nervous and speaking in a manner that Elim could only really describe as distracted.

It made him uneasy, but he had to wonder if it were some sort of joke. If the captain wanted them why not call for them over the ship's internal Comm?

Cadence gulped audibly and whispered, “There was a . . . uh . . . you guys, there was a . . . a warship guarding the jump point. Cap'n says they're already launching fighters.”

“A what?” Alayne gawked, “Why would a warship launch fighters at us?”

“It's a Drac ship,” Cadence said, “It looks like Sakhara has been taken.”

It took a moment for Elim to process what she'd said, but Alayne responded immediately asking, “Aren't we safe? This is a merchant vessel.”

“They may not kill us outright, but I would not expect them to just let us go on our merry way,” Elim told her. He turned to Cadence however and asked, “But what does the Captain expect us to do?”

“This is a Fenix ship, and you two are members of the Fenix Household, maybe he figures you can talk some sense into the Dracs, I don't know.” Cadence said seeming to focus up a bit she suddenly whispered, “What if they want to seize our cargo?”

It was Elim's turn to audibly gulp, looking back at his ancestral Mech and realizing he'd die before he let some random Combine soldier lay a finger on her.

But it was Alayne who said, “If they think they can take our Mechs I'll prove myself wrong about these Mechs not being enough to take a world on their own.”

 

 

**DCMS Planetary Headquarters**

**Memphis, Sakhara V**

**New Samarkand Military District, Draconis Combine**

**August 26th, 3145**

 

Takumi kept his face stern as the band of mercenaries approached him.

They were ten Mechwarriors in total, a diverse group led by a man of mixed heritage a couple of decades Takumi's junior but already sporting gray strands in his long chestnut hair and a square chin covered in five-o-clock shadow. The Mercenary Mechwarrior wore a gray jumpsuit with the upper body portion unzipped and tied around his waist showing off a muscular chest covered only by a cooling vest, his bare arms were thick with muscle and folded over his chest.

It was not an unusual tactic among Mechwarriors to wear lighter clothing under uniform jumpsuits. The cockpit of a BattleMech was not a cool place and Mechwarriors could often be found in scant clothing. A t-shirt and bike shorts sufficed for many, Takumi included.

However it would be shameful, even disrespectful to go around a military base dressed like that normally thus the jumpsuits. In the event that they might need to take to their machines the suit could easily be stripped and discarded so that the Mechwarrior wouldn't be hindered by it.

However wearing it the way this man did defeated the purpose and the coolant vest was no doubt a gesture to make sure everyone who laid eyes on him knew this was a Mechwarrior.

It was pointless puffery and the very sort of thing that would have to end now that this _former_ Mercenary was Takumi's third company Tai-i.

“ _Ohayou Gozaimasu,_ Ryouku.” Takumi greeted.

“ _Ohayou_.” Ryouku nodded casually. “We have been waiting for you, old man.”

“Old man?” Takumi smiled in spite of himself. He was hardly a spring chicken but he wouldn't go so far as to call himself an 'old man' just yet.

“I said it, did I not? A warrior does not speak idly.” Ryouku said boldly.

Takumi shrugged and said, “Very well. Report Tai-i, what is the status of our new equipment?”

“The Mechs you mean? They are all operational. Some parts were scavenged by other commanders headed to the Suns front but I managed to get what we needed by dropping your name and rank a few times.”

“You did not use your own?” Takumi asked.

Ryouku shrugged. “Surprisingly the name and rank of Star Captain Drummond does not hold much sway these days.”

“Your real rank, your real name.” Takumi said sternly.

“I am not a Tai-i until I accept your deal and let you conscript my binary, and though there may no longer be a Clan Nova Cat to bestow the Blood Name on me I _am_ of the Drummond bloodline.”

Takumi raised an eyebrow and asked, “A word in private then, Star Captain?”

Ryouku shrugged and said, “What you have to say to me you can say in front of my warriors, Sho-sa.”

“Very well then. You are not _of_ Clan Nova Cat, and that sort of talk is liable to get you in trouble seeing as there no longer _is_ a Clan Nova Cat. You serve the Dragon and my House, as did your father before you and that is the reason you are still alive.” Takumi warned Ryouku.

But the younger man shrugged again and asked, “Is that so? I would argue that Clan Nova Cat is still alive so long as there are those who follow their traditions and honor their memory. Besides that, Sho-sa, I have not yet accepted your deal to join the Legion of Vega in exchange for your covering my unit's debts.”

“Because I offered no deal. I _told_ you how things would be and you _wisely_ accepted matters such as they were.” Takumi told him sternly.

Privately however he thought, _You have no choice, and you know it. You let your fool self fall for the Company Store tactic, now you can accept my offer or you and your warriors can see your Mechs stripped away from you as property of the DCMS. At least under me they'll be put to good use where the Combine and the Dragon need them most._

Ryouku's expression fell a bit, his dark brown eyes seemed almost to recognize the words Takumi hadn't spoken and finally the Mechwarrior nodded. “I suppose that is true, Sho-sa. The mercenary life has been . . . freer than you might imagine, and has left me with a loose tongue. Please accept my apologies.”

“None are required if we understand each other now,” Takumi told him.

“We do.” Ryouku nodded.

“Then carry on.” The Sho-sa ordered.

The Tai-i nodded again and said, “Very well. All twelve Mechs are accounted for and ready to be moved, though I understand it will be a few days before we can depart. An Overlord Dropship could be available to take us to Shinoha within the week but it seems there aren't any Jumpships available for nearly a month. The push to New Avalon is too important.”

Takumi had heard that the Jumpship situation might be different in a couple of days but for the time being he only said, “Understandable, though unfortunate. What is your opinion of the Mechs, Tai-i?”

“Trash by my reckon,” Ryouku told him, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate one of his Mechwarriors he added, “but Koukin says they are, what was it? 'The best thing to happen to the _Hunchback_ since the _IIC_?'”

Koukin was a man Takumi knew well with shoulder-length raven hair and green eyes. He wore a gray jumpsuit like Ryouku, but it was fully zipped and lacked the outline of a coolant-vest beneath it. The man's face was more angular than Ryouku's, with features similar to Takumi's own though younger.

Of course it was not unusual for sons to resemble their fathers. Takumi smiled at the younger Saeki and asked, “Is that so, Koukin?”

“ _Hai_. The Mech is exceptional, though it lacks the stopping power of the AC 20 that the Hunchback is so well known for it more than makes up for it in other ways. It carries a Beagle Active Probe and an Angel ECM suite, it is _fast_ and yet still as well armored as a Mech of its size can be. With four ER Medium Lasers and twelve Short Range Missile racks once it gets in close it will deal serious damage and with its speed it will have no trouble getting in close.”

“Well perhaps you can be assigned to one.” Takumi told him.

“I would not go that far, Sho-sa, my _Vulture_ serves me well enough for my tastes and talents. Unless you are prepared to hand down _Kodachi_.” Koukin said naming their family's ancestral _Atlas,_ Takumi's personal Mech.

The Sho-sa shook his head and said, “I'm afraid not.”

“Pity.” Koukin shrugged.

“Just as well, the _Atlas_ would hardly fit with the rest of our binary . . . or I suppose I should make that company.” Ryouku said.

“Only technically,” Takumi said, “Truthfully you will still operate as if you were a binary.”

“I do not understand, Sho-sa.” Ryouku admitted.

Takumi nodded slowly and said, “The truth is that there was a reason your unit was subjected to the Company Store tactic, you employ a large number of Clan Mechs.”

“Almost our full roster,” Ryouku said proudly.

Takumi smiled, “Yes. Well there is a reason Tai-sa Tsukamodo and I were able to arrange things for you the way we have. Clan Ghost Bear shows no regard for the typical honor and rules of the Clans when launching these border raids of theirs. We believe that by having a force present posing as representatives of Clan Nova Cat the Ghost Bears might be more inclined bother issuing _Batchalls_ or to properly adhere to _Zellbrigen_ , giving us useful information on the forces they're using for these attacks and possibly more favorable odds in combat.”

“It sounds like a long shot to me,” Koukin admitted, “the Clans at large consider Inner Sphere forces to be Dezgra, and the Nova Cats were seen as practically as bad for siding with them.”

“Still the Ghost Bears were largely Wardens before they became isolationists so they might not view the Nova Cats in the same negative light. It _could_ work, but we will not know until we try it.” A Mechwarrior that Takumi knew to be Ryouku's sister Kaori said, folding her arms.

“So we carry on as we have from the founding of our unit, but now it is the Coordinator paying your checks instead of me.” Ryouku said with a smile, “I cannot say I am displeased.”

“I will be plain,” Takumi added, “your force is likely to face harsher opposition than the rest of the Seventh Legion. By posing as Nova Cats we are hoping that the Ghost Bears will see you as worthier adversaries and send their finer units against you leaving their inferior warriors to deal with the Legion.”

_Whom the Clanners seem to regard with a disdain even greater than what we face from the Combine at large,_ Takumi thought.

“We will welcome that challenge.” Ryouku nodded.

“And I will be eager to see your forces in action as you bloody the Bear's snout,” Takumi told him, “Perhaps we can even have an opportunity at an early demonstration.”

“What do you mean?” Koukin asked.

Takumi answered, “A Davion merchant vessel jumped into the system the other day. Our forces seized the Jumpship and their Dropships were ordered to turn over their cargo.”

“Unfortunate for them.” Kaori shrugged.

“Indeed. Because they say they are trade-configuration Unions it would seem Command has deemed their refit for military service more trouble than it is worth so the unfortunate merchants will keep their vessels themselves _if_ they truly are what they claim to be.”

“There is reason to believe they are not?” Ryouku asked.

“There is no reason to believe they _are_. Not until our troops have inspected them that is. Command fears some Davion attack, or an attempt to sneak supplies to local guerrillas. As such they have requested that we be present in the event that those Dropships contain any Federated Suns forces out for blood.”

“So we get security detail because the local forces don't want to waste their time with it, and if there _is_ a threat we're on the front line.” Koukin reasoned.

Takumi couldn't help but smile ruefully as he said, “Welcome to the Legion of Vega.”

 


	11. Mad Hope

— **==Chapter 10==—**

 

**Memphis Space Port**

**Memphis, Sakhara V**

**New Samarkand Military District, Draconis Combine**

**August 28th, 3145**

 

Takumi stifled a yawn as the first of the three Union-class Dropships touched down.

His _Atlas_ was one hundred tons of death and destruction and yet compared to the Dropship even his great war machine was dwarfed.

It made sense obviously, the Dropship would do a poor job of carrying BattleMechs if it weren't absolutely massive in relation to them. However compared to the dock workers gathering around the landing pad, and the armed infantrymen preparing to inspect the vessel even the moderately-sized—for a Dropship at least—Union-class vessel was like a spherical skyscraper its doors built for giants rather than men.

Because the Union-class Dropship was a simple design and one that hadn't managed to become LosTech during the ages of war and strife that had threatened to set the Inner Sphere back into the stone age the ship was easily the most common of Dropships replicated not just for military purposes, but also for civilian transport and mercantile shipping. The same held true of the Invader-class Jumpship, which despite its intimidating moniker actually made up the slight majority of _all_ Jumpships in both military and civilian use.

In reality it was entirely possible that these merchants were everything they said they were and there was no danger whatsoever.

They were just unfortunate travelers whose Jumpship would be seized and whose Dropships would be retained only because they weren't worth much to the military. Even their goods—whatever the were—would be seized by the DCMS, after all why should the Dragon show any consideration to people who weren't its own?

For the merchants this would be a very bad day . . . but Takumi and his men it promised to be a very boring one standing guard as the infantry took custody of the vessels. Unless these Dropships truly were carrying Mechs, or supplies for local insurgents there would be nothing for him and his Legionnaires to do except stand by and look intimidating.

A job the _Atlas_ was uniquely suited for. Though painted in the crimson and gray of the Legion of Vega _Kodachi_ sported two distinctions, one of them was a black lightning bolt streaking down the Mech's chest unique to his own machine, but the other was one shared by virtually every _Atlas_ in operation; white paint on the already skeletal faceplate to really drive home to any who viewed it that the _Atlas_ was death incarnate.

Some small portion of Takumi hoped that these merchants were enemy combatants not just because it would make their truthfully unfair treatment easier to stomach—it would be one thing to seize their cargo but to steal their Jumpship as well stranded them on the world until a civilian Jumpship actually permitted by the Combine and headed for Suns space came through, and who knew when that would be—but also because it would relieve the monotony of guard duty.

It was a terrible wish, he knew, but even a veteran like Takumi could admit that for a Mechwarrior life was often long stretches of boredom punctuated by brief moments of sheer terror and it was in those moments that many of them felt truly alive.

Three Unions would be enough to bring on a whole battalion, though he had less than a Company on-hand to guard the site they would have the advantage against the enemy if they arrived one at a time.

Which honestly only strengthened Takumi's suspicion that these men were nothing more than what they claimed to be.

How fortunately unfortunate.

“The first ship has landed, and they have not opened fire on us, Sho-sa,” Ryouku reported, though he did a good job of hiding his disappointment, Takumi wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't known the man since he was a child. He said, “It looks as if this will be an uneventful afternoon.”

“The hull lacks the same sort of weaponry you would see in a military configuration, this is clearly a trade vessel,” his sister Kaori piped in, the disappointment in her voice as evident as the disappointment Takumi felt.

“Steady on, this is just the first. Our job is not done until it is done.” Takumi told them.

“A true waste of our talents,” Ryouku's second in command, a man named Yuroko Kouki piped in. Kouki's _Shogun_ was the only non-clan Mech in the binary, which was debatable since the Wolf's Dragoons design could practically count given the Mercenary unit's origins. No one knew or at least no one would tell how Yuroko had come by the thought-to-be extinct design but the Mech cut nearly as impressive a figure as Takumi's own _Atlas_ , albeit a figure with spindlier arms, no head and too-long legs.

It still towered alongside him over the tiny humans as they went about their work. Takumi saw the crew of the Dropship being escorted away from their vessel and his sights zoomed in on them as they moved.

No resistance, scared looks on their faces, there was no questioning it, these were just blue-collar workers about to be put on an unwanted extended vacation.

But as he watched them he thought he spotted something familiar on their uniforms, a crest . . .

“Control Tower, this is Rat One,” Takumi said, his call-sign for this deployment a reference to the Legion of Vega's emblem and mascot “Takashi the Rat.” He asked the control tower, “Where did these ships say they came from?”

“One moment, Rat One . . . it looks like they're from Caselton, or so they claim.”

Takumi smiled slightly, “Thank you Tower . . . Rats, be on your guard just in case. These Dropships belong to the Fenix family.”

“Do you know them?” Ryouku asked.

“You should as well, our House has a history with them. Stone made them disband their mercenary regiment, but if anyone were planning to slip a gift to the local Davion loyalists it would be them.” Takumi said, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

_This Dropship is a dud, would you truly be mad enough to attack with just two Companies, Old Phoenix? Is that the best Caselton can manage these days? Or are you some sort of vanguard? This world has a relevance to your House, doesn't it? Come then my old friend, I'll even pray to your Christian God that you're aboard one of these vessels. Let us settle what our fathers began . . ._

 

**Dropship _DeLeon_**

**Sakhara V**

**New Samarkand Military District, Draconis Combine**

**August 28th, 3145**

 

The _DeLeon_ was nearing port, Elim had never felt so uneasy in his life.

“Sakhara is mostly desert,” The Captain was saying, “you won't have many places to hide and your Mechs aren't fast. Once they scramble Aerospace Fighters you're going to be run down.”

Alayne pointed to a spot on the map and said, “What about this canyon? Both _God Hand_ and _Caladbolg_ have Jump Jets, if we can make it into the canyon--”

“You'd never make it out. It's too deep, even assuming you could land safely.” The Captain said, shaking his head. “Truth is there just aren't many places to hide once you're clear of the star port.”

“That is _if_ we even manage to clear the star port.” Elim spoke up. “The Combine wants to inspect the cargo, they are bound to have forces on hand just in case that cargo is dangerous.”

“We told them we weren't carrying any weapons, why shouldn't they believe us?” Alayne asked.

“They have no reason to think that we are telling the truth,” Elim said, and in fact they hadn't been. Though the Drop-ships were carrying no weapons or munitions to Sakhara they _were_ still carrying two dangerous BattleMechs and two Mechwarriors who were ready to crash and burn before handing over their ancestral treasures.

He continued saying, “The _Arnhem_ is an Invader-Class Jumpship with three docking rings, and she came from Davion space. For all the Dracs know she could have been carrying a whole regiment.”

“If she had a trio of Overlords hooked up, sure. But the _DeLeon_ and our sister vessels are all Union-class.” The Captain said.

“That is still enough for a full battalion of Mechs, the DCMS probably figures that is not enough to liberate the world but enough to cause trouble.” Elim said.

Alayne shook her head and told him, “So what are you saying? We should just give up?”

“I never said that,” Elim told her, “I am only saying that getting out of the Star Port is not a guarantee. The whole trip from the jump-point to the planet we were hoping to pick up on rumors of any kind of resistance and we have heard nothing.”

“They could be laying low, they don't know they're about to get help.” Alayne said. “I can't imagine Sakhara falling without a fight, or without resistance after the fact, and since we haven't heard about it falling it must have been recent so . . . I mean there's got to be _something_ , right?”

“Not necessarily,” The Captain told them, “With communications what they are and the length of our trip Sakhara could have been taken _last year_ and we wouldn't have known about it, especially assuming we're not special and the Combine is seizing _every_ Jumpship that comes in-system.”

Elim didn't like the sound of that. He and Alayne had been hoping against hope that upon arriving on-world they could break through the security at the star port and link up with whatever AFFS forces might still be on-world.

But as she'd said, the entire trip in they'd heard nothing of any resistance movements.

Alayne was still holding out hope, but Elim had already accepted the grim reality of what they were about to face. The two had already discussed what they would do if they truly were alone on this world; there was no way their ancestral Mechs would be handed over to the Combine. If the DCMS wanted them they would have to win them.

Actually Elim felt a sort of calm as they came nearer to the star port. His fate was inescapable now and for some reason that fact made it a lot less frightening. He was going to fight and then, hopefully after giving a worthy account . . . he was going to die.

Even his wildest imaginings couldn't conceive of any other scenario without there being some AFFS force to link up with. He and Alayne were just two Mechwarriors against a whole world, even if they had some success they'd never be able to keep their Mechs operational on the run for long.

Alayne had suggested trying to find someplace to stash them then simply trying to integrate into the civilian populace until something changed on Sakhara, be it a liberation force or an uprising, and Elim had agreed with her . . . but neither of them really believed it was possible.

They didn't know the planet well enough to find a hiding spot and since the _Arnhem_ had come in on the commercial point instead of a pirate point there had never been any chance of their Dropship making the sort of covert planet-fall that would have allowed them to stash two Mechs and then just quietly slip into the populace.

Every minute of their journey since they'd uncoupled from the _Arnhem_ had been watched by the warship in orbit and sometimes even escorted by Aerospace Fighters.

“We can't flee across an open desert, there's no forests to hide in and we're too far away from any mountains,” Alayne said crossing her arms as she looked at the holo-map, “The only cover we'd have is the Star Port itself.”

“If you consider buildings cover there's a concrete jungle all around it, the Dracs would have to be pretty far gone to fire on you in a civilian center.” The Captain told her.

Elim hadn't considered that, and apparently neither had Alayne though she was less pleased about it than he was.

“I don't want to take that risk, those are innocent people.”

“So are we.” The Captain told her, “I'm telling you the Dracs won't shoot you while you're in the streets, it's once you get into the open you'll need to worry.”

Elim was already scanning the 3D map of the city and he pointed to a marina, “Here! The water is deep here and it leads out into the ocean. Our Mechs are rated for the vacuum of space, they should be fine on the sea floor as long as we do not go sodeep the pressure crushes them. The water should interfere with their sensors too, and with it being afternoon they will not have long before the cover of darkness makes us undetectable. We can travel along the bottom and emerge anywhere along the coast we like under the cover of night, Layne!”

She frowned and said, “It'd be a risk . . . but it's a better chance than we had twenty minutes ago.”

“It's our only chance.” Elim told her firmly. “We make it to the water and we find someplace to stash the Mechs until we can link up with local resistance.”

“If there is any,” The Captain was saying but then he was interrupted.

“Captain,” One of the bridge crew spoke up, “The _Weston_ set down, before she powered down she sent us her sensor readings. That tarmac is crawling with Snakes, eleven Mechs in total.”

Alayne looked a little pale at that, but Elim smiled and said, “I will take six, you take five.”

“More like we'll race and see who gets what.” Alayne said with a confidence it was clear she didn't really feel.

The Captain though asked, “What are we looking at here? Industrial MODs?”

That briefly gave Elim some hope. Fighting through a whole company of Industrial MODs actually _might_ be possible. If Sakhara _had_ been taken a while ago and the resistance fully subdued it was possible the line units were gone and second-line regiment had taken control of the planet.

_We actually_ might _get out of the star port . . . with a little bit of luck we could,_ he was thinking but the crewman at the sensors said, “They read BattleMechs sir, _Clan_ Mechs mostly. There's an _Atlas_ and a _Shogun_ right on top of them with a _Jupiter,_ a _Hunchback IIC,_ a _Vulture_ , it just gets worse from there.”

“Worse than the _Jupiter_?” Elim couldn't help but smile grimly.

“Some of those are second-line Clan Mechs. Could it be a Nova Cat Solahma unit?” Alayne asked.

He doubted it, even Mechs once considered second-line wouldn't be seen that way these days, it would have been Industrial MODs that the Clans would have inflicted on their aging warriors instead.

But adopting a confidence _he_ didn't feel Elim grinned wolfishly at Alayne and asked, “Does it matter?”

She grinned back and shrugged, “No. They'll be just as dead at the end of the day, E.”

The Captain breathed a slow and heavy sigh. He looked at Elim and Alayne and asked, “Are you two . . . absolutely certain of your course?”

“We are.” Alayne said, and Elim nodded.

The Captain took another deep breath and said, “I won't let you two march out of that hanger to certain death. Helm, slow our descent and prepare to open the cargo bay doors.”

“Captain?” The Helmsman gawked.

The Captain said, “Find me a wide open space, a parking lot or a city park, blast it man a sports center would do! Get us there, if the CT wants to know why tell them we're having technical difficulties.”

“You're going to set down _in the city?_ ” Alayne asked in shock.

“No. We're going to pass over and you two are going to jump out of the cargo-bay,” The Captain told her, “you said yourself both your Mechs have Jump Jets.”

“You're just going to blow the bay doors over the city? What about the cargo?” Alayne asked.

“A few members of the populace might get a free T-Shirt I suppose. The least you'll owe them for the impromptu parade you're about to inflict on them. But all the heavier equipment is secured to the hold, and anyway if we do it right nothing should land on anyone, yourselves included,” the Captain told her. “Or are you worried about it being damaged? The Dracs are stealing it all, as far as I'm concerned you can stomp a few crates on your way out and it won't make me lose any sleep.”

Alayne's smile went from forced to more genuine and she said, “You're . . . thank you, Captain. And your crew . . . this is . . . this is incredibly brave of you.”

“It certainly is,” Elim agreed, “What happens to you once you drop Mechs onto the city?”

The plan before was to say that the crew had been forced to go along with the two of them against their will under threat of violence, but a drop like this would almost definitely show the Combine that the crew had willingly gone along with them.

“The same thing that would have happened if you'd shot your way out of the cargo hold instead. With our dangerous Mercenary captors unloaded we throw ourselves on the mercy of the dragon, tell them you forced us the whole time, only now we can tell them we overheard where you planned to emerge.”

“And send them on a wild goose hunt!” Alayne grinned, even though Elim remained skeptical that the DCMS would do anything other than torture the crew half to death and the Captain surely knew it.

The Captain nodded and said, “It's better than watching you two get vaporized trying to reenact a holo-drama shootout. Just take my advice kids, once you're clear stash those Mechs or destroy them, then blend in and wait for the Sunrise.”

Elim was moved by the man's proposal, and he heard the wisdom in his advice as well. Still, it seemed almost hypocritical to him for the Captain to refer to them fighting through the star port's security as reenacting a holo-drama in one breath then go on to talk about the Sunrise in the next.

The Sunrise, or the idea that the Federated Suns would somehow bounce back from their current all but cataclysmic circumstances was an idea Elim had heard many of the Davion loyalists spout with something between hopefulness and desperation. The Federated Suns hadn't been this close to the brink since the First Succession War, and even then their recovery had taken years and circumstances that Elim did not see repeating themselves in this war.

It was a lovely idea but with the sheer damage inflicted on the Suns, the number of Regiments lost and the number of worlds taken, the number of heroes fallen, the lack of allies since the Republic had shut itself off and even the Raven Alliance had turned their backs on them if the rumors were true. It left the Suns without a single ally surrounded by enemies who hated everything they were and would like nothing more than to erase them from the Inner Sphere.

Enemies who would be all happy to see the great and powerful Federated Suns left as crippled as a Periphery State, _Blake's blood, if they keep pushing the borders back the Federated Suns might_ become _a Periphery State,_ Elim realized in a moment that made his blood run cold.

But that was the problem with hoping for the Sunrise; it wasn't just going to _happen_. To Elim it was clear the Sunrise wouldn't come unless the people of the Federated Suns climbed into Apollo's chariot and drove it themselves.

They needed new heroes, new regiments, new Mechwarriors, and with the previous generation exhausted his generation were the ones who'd have to provide them.

Though as he thought that, he thought it was a shame he and Alayne wouldn't get the chance to be among them. Even now his expectations towards survival hadn't changed. He knew their plan was a long shot, even though he wasconfident the Combine wouldn't fire on them _in_ the city he had no idea what sort of naval assets they had or how quickly they'd be able to scramble Fighters this close to the star port.

But it beat a suicidal dash across an open field.

“We will do what we can to survive, Captain.” Alayne said, responding better than Elim would have.

So he just nodded in agreement.

“Get to your Mechs, Mechwarriors, and be ready,” The Captain said, “We're about to drop one hundred and ninety tons of death onto the Dracs, and I doubt they're going to be happy about it.”

 


	12. The Hunt

— **==Chapter 11==—**

 

**Memphis Space Port**

**Memphis, Sakhara V**

**New Samarkand Military District, Draconis Combine**

**August 28th, 3145**

 

Actually Sho-sa Takumi Saeki _was_ happy when the CT reported, “Rat One, Rat One, third Union has broken off from its flight path and is slowing over Memphis City!”

“Bay doors?” Takumi asked.

“They're opening.”

“It is a hot drop, Sho-sa!” Ryouku said with an obvious similar excitement, “I will move to intercept!”

“Be careful, there could be a whole company in that Drop Ship,” Takumi warned him.

“I know, unfortunate they did not bring sufficient force to make this a worthwhile fight.” Ryouku's response was wolfish to say the least. “Alpha Star, form up on my lead, Beta Star you are with the Sho-sa. We will hound their landing, you will bring the firepower, _quiaff_?”

Takumi was so overjoyed he didn't even mind Ryouku continuing to play Clanner, he even answered, “Aff, good hunting Tai-i. Be advised if there is a _Victor_ or a _Thor_ they are _mine_.”

“As ordered, Sho-sa,” Ryouku said, and his _Shadow Cat II_ and the other jump capable Mechs of the binary's jump-capable Alpha Star set off leaping over the walls of the Star Port.

Takumi said to Kouki, “You and your star are with me, Chu-i, but do not hesitate. _Kodachi_ is slow, and our quarry cannot be allowed to escape.”

“We will keep pace with you, Sho-sa, most of our big boys can't go much faster anyway, and the Star Captain is good at driving the sheep to slaughter. He is the hammer, we will be the anvil.”

“Very good, Chu-i.”

The six Mechs set out, but Takumi was surprised by one of the Mechs that accompanied Ryouku in the Cavalry star.

The lumbering assault Mech should have been too slow for a typical pursuit or Cavalry lance, but then Takumi supposed with the pair of _Black Hawks_ and the _Hunchback IIC_ that the Alpha Star required a bit more weight, which the one hundred ton _Daishi_ certainly provided.

Besides in the city the jump jets would let the Mech move far faster than Takumi's _Atlas_ , even if on an open field the two would have run at near the same pace.

_Good hunting at any rate,_ Takumi thought.

“Rat One, Rat One,” the CT called, “we detect two BattleMechs have left the Drop Ship, and the Drop Ship is beaming its surrender. Be advised there are only two mercenary Mechs.”

_Odd tactic,_ Takumi thought. Aloud he responded, “Understood Tower. Do you want the rest of my Company to remain on site in the event the Drop Ship captain is lying?”

“That would help, Rat Lead, our nerves are fried here, some Mechs on site would ease our nerves.”

“Understood. Beta Star, stay on site.”

“What about you, Sho-sa?” His son asked, the _Vulture_ not being among the jump capable Alpha Star.

“I am continuing my pursuit. Did you not hear me claim the _Victor_ and the _Thor?_ If only two Mechs arrived from Caselton I will give you only one guess which two they would be.”

“Are you certain it is them?” Star Commander Kouki asked.

Takumi was _fairly_ sure. Both Mechs were jump capable, and he would expect nothing less of the sons of his father's rivals than to leap out of a moving Drop Ship into a city occupied by their enemies. Even when they had served the Dragon during Prince Victor's exile the Fenix brothers had earned a reputation for doing things in an unorthodox way.

That as well as recklessness. This move was both those things, just what he would expect. The direction of the war with the Federated Suns and now Ghost Bear had left Takumi thinking that the privilege of battle against House Fenix would be denied him.

Perhaps it was just the boredom getting to him, perhaps he was making a fool of himself being so hopeful but at the moment it did seem as if the universe had gift wrapped a special present for him in particular.

And in a way he could see the twisted strands of fate had even given his family's rivals a gift of their own in the honorable death they would receive at his hands.

So he only answered to Kouki, “Aff.”

 

Few things could have prepared Elim for the jump out of the _DeLeon_ and into Memphis.

His experience in actual Mechs had been limited but _Caladbolg_ responded like a dream and the slow behemoth walked with a bizarre sort of ease to the edge of the bay door and as he ignited the jump jets she flew free of the _DeLeon_ almost without effort.

The landing would be easy, the mall parking lot provided a large open space and since it was a Tuesday the place wasn't all that full.

Still Elim tried his best to steer the plummeting _Dire Wolf_ away from any parked cars just in case there was anyone in them.

He landed harder than he meant to, cracking the asphalt beneath _Caladbolg's_ heavy feet and to any of the confused and horrified onlookers Elim imagined the massive bird-like Mech had seemed like some massive raptor descending talons first.

Of course only the _Dire Wolf's_ thick back-jointed legs really resembled a bird, once the eye came to the waist and the boxy torso the similarity ended. Its thick arms, each housing a deadly Gauss Rifle bore more resemblance to an armored humanoid arm than any wing, and the and forward placed almost conical cockpit protruding from the rectangular box that was the torso bore no resemblance to any avian creature Elim had ever seen.

Alayne's equally birdlike _Mad Cat Mk. II_ came down not too far from him, its landing leaving less of an impact at first until the thinner chicken legs buckled as Alayne's own balance was no doubt affected by the landing leaving her Mech to nearly stumble into a clothing store as she quickly struggled to regain her balance, flattening a bench and a trash receptacle in the process.

She at least managed to avoid any shoppers, but the running and screaming on their part no doubt helped with that.

Playing off her rough landing Alayne made a joke, twisting _Godhand's_ torso—and thus its cockpit—towards the clothing store she cried over the Comm, “Ooh hey, fifty percent off swim suits! Think I have time to try some on? I mean I didn't pack one and we're going to the marina . . .”

“Very funny, Layne,” Elim said with a slight smile, “but I think we should focus on making it through the day alive.”

“Well I suppose you're right, I guess we do need to move with a sense of urgency now that you mention it.”

“Glad you agree.” Elim said, quickly taking a look at Caladbolg's map and saying, “I have set the nav points, sending them to your computer.”

“Sounds good. After you, E.”

“Neg. _Godhand_ is faster, you take the lead and I will follow behind.”

“We don't have time to argue, and I'm not leaving you.” Alayne said casually, and despite her assertion that they didn't have time to argue she did provide an argument as well, telling him, “You're more heavily armored anyway, if something gets the jump on us I'd rather it scratch _Cal's_ paint than _Handy's._ ”

Elim sighed and said, “Very well, but if _Caladbolg_ goes down do not hesitate, run and keep running until you are clear.”

“As ordered . . .” Alayne said, but Elim could hear the dishonesty in her voice even over the comm.

The two Assault Mechs moved with purpose, following the road for the most part since it was easier to fit the massive war machines down the wide streets—many of which had been built with parading BattleMechs in mind—than it would have been to just start leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

After all neither of them wanted to risk plummeting through an apartment complex, or misjudging a jump and crashing into an elementary school.

For their part the people of Memphis steered clear, cars pulling to the side of the road and pedestrians either fleeing inside the nearest building or staying to the sidewalk, though they seemed to be attracting far more eyes than screams.

_Well this probably isn't the sort of thing they're used to seeing every day,_ Elim reasoned.

Their journey was mostly unimpeded, the DCMS obviously unprepared for their drop.

In fact the first obstacle they faced was not a row of armed BattleMechs or even a battalion of heavy tanks, instead it was a cadre of black and white cars with a group of very nervous looking men blocking the road ahead of them and holding firearms that would do a whole lot of nothing to the armor of _Caladbolg_ and _Godhand_.

“Are they serious?” Elim asked aloud without realizing it.

“They've got brass ones, I'll give 'em that.” Alayne said, she sounded like she might laugh in spite of the situation.

One man held a megaphone up and announced, _“Th-this is the Memphis City Police, your presence is unlawful, and a danger to the public. We command that you stand down and submit to our officers!”_

“What do we do, E?” Alayne asked him.

_It seems she's decided I'm in charge. Great. So if we screw up it's on me,_ Elim thought. He told her, “We do not want to hurt the local constabulary, just . . . try not to step on them?”

“Between the cars and the cops I don't know for certain if we can clear a step like that without hurting someone, and I don't know if I want to risk the jump, the heat from the jets might fry them.”

Elim hadn't thought about that.

_“Stand down and submit to our officers! We'll go easier on you than the Snakes will, and they're on their way!”_ The man on the megaphone called up to them.

_Well that settles it,_ Elim thought and activating _Caladbolg's_ external speakers he said, _“In the name of First Prince Julian Davion, and the Federated Suns I do not recognize the Draconis Combine's claim to Sakhara V, or the city of Memphis, and will abide by no laws or restrictions placed on me by those acting on the Dragon's behalf. I thank you for your service to these people who powers willing will one day soon be citizens of the Federated Suns once again, but ask that you step out of my path, officer. This Mech is quite slow and I would prefer to engage the Snakes outside of the city limits.”_

“What was that?” Alayne laughed over the comm.

“Just making sure they know who we serve. If there is a drop of Sunburst blood split between the lot of them they will clear out of our way.” Elim responded.

_“You're mad! Do you know what they do to their prisoners? What they did to the rest of the Academy's training battalion?”_ Megaphone responded.

_The rest of . . . oh!_ Elim thought, _That's right, our Mechs are already painted in the Academy's colors, if this guy's from here of course he knows them, all he'd have to do is watch a Christmas day parade!_

Alayne spoke up and over her own external speakers said, _“_ You're _mad if you think either of us has any intention of being taken alive, or at all. The Sun won't rise by itself, gentlemen. Now stand aside because I'm through waiting.”_

Elim didn't expect what came next . . . in fact he never would have imagined it.

The streets of Memphis were full of people, but far from fleeing in terror a crowd of them were gathering around the scene and many of them were booing.

At first he assumed they were booing him and Alayne for putting them and their city in danger, but then he realized they were booing the police, someone even threw a plastic cup at them.

That finally broke Megaphone's will and he made a hand gesture, sending the rest of his officers to their vehicles and quickly pulling them to the side of the road.

Now that their journey could resume things got truly bizarre.

People were actually leaning out of windows cheering as the two Mechs ran on through the streets, some even ran along on the sidewalks for as far as they could keep up with _Caladbolg's_ fifty four kilometer per hour run.

“This doesn't seem like a broken populace to me,” Alayne said with a hint of pride in her voice.

“No,” Elim agreed, “but I hope we are not giving them false hope. They seem as if they think our presence alone means the Combine is about to be driven out.”

“Or maybe they're just happy to see some familiar colors.” Alayne said.

What ever the reason Elim wouldn't grudge these poor citizens of the Suns even a moment of joy or hope.

_Hope that will be dashed if we let them see us die,_ Elim thought with grim determination not to let that happen.

 

_Kodachi's_ armored humanoid form ran through the streets of Memphis at its top speed like some medieval knight without his horse charging into battle and it moved with about the same degree of speed.

The _Daishi,_ or _Dire Wolf_ he supposed Ryouku and his people would call it, was keeping pace just a half kilometer ahead of him, leaving him to follow its pilot's trail though he was finding the streets mostly clear.

The warning sirens were blaring, the people understood that war had come once more to the city of Memphis . . . they should be someplace safe.

And yet they were not . . . a surprising number of people seemed to be filling the streets and peering out of windows.

“What is this?” Takumi had to wonder.

“Star Captain, Sho-sa,” the voice of one of Ryouku's _Black Hawk_ pilots suddenly cut in over the comm, “I have them on extreme sensor range, we are closing in. No identification yet, but . . . well . . .”

“What is it?” Takumi asked.

“The . . . populace, Sho-sa. The people seem to be providing an obstacle . . . some of them are throwing things at us.”

“Give them a warning and if you feel the need use force, they have no right to stand between us and our quarry!” Ryouku ordered.

“Belay that order!” Takumi roared, then on a private channel he said, “Damnation, Drummond! These people are subjects of the Dragon now; citizens of the Draconis Combine. No one said they had to like it, or us, but I won't let you play out some miniature reenactment of the Kentares massacre just because you're impatient.”

He eased his tone though it was difficult and said, “No one wants them more than I do, and yet even I know good things come to those who wait. You have jump jets, use them. Get ahead of them, then block their path. Wherever they mean to go herd them back to me.”

There was a pause, and then Drummond responded a little mechanically, “As ordered, Sho-sa.”

Takumi had chosen not to reprimand the man in front of his men, but Ryouku's tone suggested he felt shame all the same, which Takumi thought a good thing.

_At least he's got enough honor and integrity to_ be _ashamed, I only hope it's of his near actions and not just embarrassment at being scolded,_ the Sho-sa thought.

For his part Ryouku said on the open company channel, “Use your jets, Alpha Star. A bit of rooftop running never hurt anyone, if your Mechsare light enough for it, so that counts you out, Gossard. It will help us overtake our quarry and avoid the mob . . . and let us try not to hurt any of said mob, even if they are confused as to whose Mechs they should be throwing their debris at.”

A series of “Affs” followed the statement.

It was not long however before Takumi got to enjoy the very same treatment the _Black Hawk_ pilot had reported, jeering and screaming people lined the street as he passed utterly fearless in the face of their conquerors drunk off of the reckless high that only a misled belief that liberation was on the horizon could bring.

_Was that your intent, Fenix? To parade a couple of Mechs through the streets of an occupied world and cause a civil uprising? Because if so it is unworthy to use civilians to fight your war, and not every DCMS commander would have restrained Ryouku the way I did. I expected better from the sons of the men I heard such grand stories of._

It made Takumi feel a slight tinge of anxiety realizing that he might be making a fool of himself after all.

Perhaps he was chasing some underlings instead of the men he thought he hunted, perhaps these soldiers were not related to the Fusiliers at all and had simply used their vessels . . .

_Perhaps a lot of things,_ Takumi thought, _but right now all that matters is the hunt._

 

The minutes wore on but the marina loomed ever closer on _Caladbolg's_ sensor map. Unfortunately it wasn't the only thing, and could see the enemy signatures at the edge of his sensor range, and he could see they were moving to intercept them.

_It's going to be close, we can't afford to slow down now,_ he thought. Aloud he said, “Layne, I assume you loaded up _Godhand's_ LRMs before the jump?”

“Blast, I knew I forgot something. Kidding of course. Don't know if I can get a lock running like this though.”

“Actually I would prefer if you did not fire in the crowded streets, those missiles would do more damage to the people than they would to an enemy Mech.”

“I think most people have taken cover, parade crowd's gone, E.”

True enough the streets were much clearer, but this was still people's home, Elim didn't doubt that a stray LRM would ruin someone's life if Alayne were careless enough to fire _Godhand's_ shoulder mounted missile racks in the city.

But Alayne told him, “All the same, message received. Kibosh on the Long Range Missiles.”

“Acknowledged,” Elim said with a bit of relief, “Seems like a lance, I read four, one far ahead of the others.”

“Want to bet that's the _Shadow Cat_?” Alayne asked.

“It was a _Shadow Cat II,_ _quineg_? A sixty ton Heavy Mech. Is . . . is that one fast?” Elim asked, a little embarrassed not to know the answer. He knew the classic _Shadow Cat_ could have caught up to them by now, but it was equipped with a MASC system that let it run at incredible speeds . . . was the heavier _Shadow Cat II_ similarly outfitted?

Alayne didn't sound certain when she responded, “I heard Lindsay say she fought one once, it was fast. Had a Gauss Rifle too, that means he can hit us as soon as we can hit him, and Jump Jet so he's probably clearing the buildings we're avoiding.”

“Sounds like a beast,” Elim commented and then nearly stumbled when an iron-nickel slug struck the street in front of him like a miniature meteorite raining bits of road down, some of it pelting his Mech as he ran.

“Looks like I was right . . . and it looks like he's on us.” Alayne said.

Elim watched the left side as they ran and saw the bulky form of the _Shadow Cat II_ jump over the top of a building firing off another round at them, this one again crashing into the street rather than either of their Mechs or—thankfully—any of the buildings nearby.

“He is at extreme range, ignore him we are almost to the marina!”

“I can take him,” Alayne said, “Just have to figure out where he'll pop up next, and I'll pop him!”

“Neg, ignore him for now, he's focusing on me and I can take it.” Elim said, though actually he got the distinct impression that the _Shadow Cat_ pilot wasn't missing Caladbolg on accident.

_If he hits me he could send me careening into one of these buildings, he's firing on the road intentionally and making sure I know he's able to take shots . . . is he trying to get me to turn and meet him, or is he trying to lead me off somewhere?_ Elim wondered.

A third shot went off, again striking the road, this time very near to _Caladbolg_ 's foot. Alayne shouted, “If he slows you down we're dead! _Handy's_ Gauss Rifles have the same range his does, if he can worry us I should be able to worry him and you _know_ I'm a good shot!”

“This isn't the sibko, Layne, this isn't some competition, keep moving!” Elim warned her, knowing his speech had deteriorated in the heat of the moment but knowing as well it wasn't as if his grandmother were around to chastise him for it.

“We've got more company!” Alayne reported as a bolt of man-made lightning from an ER PPC shot through the sky hitting and obliterating a parked—and hopefully empty—car on the side of the road.

_Not now, not so close . . ._ Elim thought.

And then he heard the roar of the aerospace fighters overhead.

 


	13. Uninvited Guests

— **==Chapter 12==—**

 

**Drop Ship _Treasure Trove_**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**September 1st, 3145**

 

From the somewhat cramped cockpit of the  _ Hyena  _ salvage Mech the Mech Bay of the  _ Treasure Trove  _ seemed small and crowded. The Industrial Mech was tall and more or less humanoid with long clawed arms and long powerful legs that were anything but proportional to the rest of its body, which consisted of a small torso with the cockpit mounted towards the top nestled between its shoulders like some sort of rectangular head without a neck. The  _ Hyena _ was ugly for lack of a better word, with an appearance more resembling a bipedal lobster or crab than its actual namesake but it had been named for its function, not its appearance. The salvage Mech would clean the armor and components off of a Mech like its namesake cleaning the flesh from its prey.

It was no sleek  _ Tiburon _ , no intimidating  _ Kodiak  _ but to Diana the sturdy little  _ Hyena  _ had become beautiful in a way as a machine built to serve its purpose with no thought spared for visual flare, not at all like the ridiculous bird-like designs the Jade Falcons were turning out these days or the impractical Samurai style square shoulder shields she'd seen some of the Draconis Combine's new designs sporting. Never mind the flags some of them wore on their backs.

No, while it was no BattleMech or Omni Mech her Hyena was a perfect representation of Diana herself; a scavenger who was all about results.

They were identical in that regard to the other four standing in the  _ Trove's  _ bay, all of which were online and prepared to move. Her crew were carefully chosen and while none of them were what she would call bold warriors that was not the function they needed to serve. They were all brave scavengers willing to sneak into dangerous places and able to keep calm in the face of opposition . . . though they suffered no illusions that their Industrial MODs would win in a fight they understood that true victory for them was not to fight at all.

Diana checked the sensor readout of her  _ Hyena  _ one last time to be sure as the captain of the  _ Trove  _ announced that they were setting down. Other than the other four Mechs in her crew she wouldn't detect anything until the Leopard-class Drop Ship opened its bay doors of course, but  _ Alpha _ —the nickname she'd given her Mech for it was the leader of its pack—had been having trouble with her sensors lately and they tended to report phantom contacts.

It had nearly sent them running from a worthwhile site on Tikonov a month ago, where the efforts of the Federated Suns to scavenge, salvage and restore their fighting force were ongoing, aided by the Mech Factories but only just barely.

Still it wouldn't have done to have the Fourth Federated Suns Lancers descend on her crew. Many of the Fourth's Mechs were light and fast, and though her  _ Hyena  _ could move at an impressive eight four kilometers per hour much of their success relied on not having to outrun anything too fast for them to out gun.

Spotty sensors would be a huge problem on their current mission, but there hadn't been time to get them properly repaired before this one, and the opportunity was too good to pass up just because  _ Alpha  _ was seeing things.

An anonymous but usually reliable source had clued her outfit in to a supposed vault of Clan spec Omni Mechs hidden away by some unrenowned mercenary band. Their source seemed to think they'd be interested in dealing these mercenaries the parts they'd need to get the machines up and running again.

But Diana had had a different idea.

An OmniMech went for a damned fine price these days, why sell the components to restore them when she could just steal the Mechs and then use her own components to make them market worthy again? If the mercenaries were lucky maybe she'd give them the first chance to bid.

The Leopard wasn't capable of carrying anything more than  _ Alpha  _ and the rest of the  _ Hyenas  _ but their Union Class Drop Ship  _ Galleon  _ was ready to take on any cargo they found even if its hull was half-full of salvage from Tikonov. After all, how many Mechs could these Mercenaries have?

_ Alpha's _ sensors were clean, except of course for the other four  _ Hyenas  _ in the bay with her. Diana could feel the vibration that ran through the whole Drop Ship when it landed and the jerk as the old bay doors slowly began to open. Jackal's sensors still read clean.

She rubbed the lucky rabbit's foot she wore around her neck. It was childish, she knew, and superstition was unbecoming but whether the act simply put her in a clearer state of mind or truly caused the stars to align in her favor so to speak the little ritual simply worked for her.

_ Besides I have relied on it for so long I am half afraid to see what would happen if I stop,  _ she thought privately before she hardened herself and opened a comm to the rest of her crew.

“All right then people, form up on me. We have a list of entrances into these underground tunnels where these Mechs are supposed to be hidden, but it is outdated. Some of them may have been sealed off during the Jihad or by the Republic when they demilitarized the world so we may be looking for a while. If we do not find what we are seeking by daybreak we will hunker down and rest but I do not plan to leave this world without a prize. Keep your sensors on passive so we do not draw attention, keep it quiet and try not to look too conspicuous.”

She heard a series of “Aff”s and “Aye”s from her team and then quietly as their modified Industrial Mechs could be the five of them slipped out of the Leopard and stalked into the dark night.

Like their Mechs' namesake they were a pack on the hunt.

 

**Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters “The Nest”**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**September 1st, 3145**

 

Hadrian was getting used to being part of this Sibko thing, even if it wasn't always fun.

His squad-mates had accepted him quickly, and he'd gotten to know and even like them over the time he'd spent with them.

There was Rio the leader and Hikaru the joker. The identical twins had seemed terribly different at first though as he'd gotten to know them Hadrian had picked up on the subtle clues that Rio was just as much of a joker as his brother, though his sense of humor was dryer and more subtle. Alternatively Hikaru, while eager to laugh about virtually everything was just as serious and determined as Rio when it mattered, though that took longer to notice since very little mattered enough to Hikaru for him to become serious.

Besides them there was Rachel, though despite meeting her before the rest of them he felt as if she were the one he knew the least well. She was taciturn and observant to the point of being frustratingly difficult to talk to. Her older sister Vika was by far the more personable of the two, though he saw less of her since she led a different squad.

Tonight however both their squads would be exercising together, and the thrill of competing with her and Leone—while of course working together with them . . . but mostly competing—was high in Hadrian's thoughts.

The Sibko it turned out held periodic war games with the militia and with Tikonov in danger the Planetary Governor and the General of the militia's combined arms regiment wanted to increase the frequency of the games in order to improve the battle readiness of Caselton's defenders. The cadets were too young for infantry games to be of much balance, but in the cockpits of BattleMechs youth was less of a handicap.

Being one of the older cadets in the Sibko meant that Hadrian had the opportunity to pilot one of the actual _BattleMechs_ that the Fusiliers kept for just such an occasion. He'd learned from his squad who'd all been through it a time or two before that the _Pack Hunter IIs_ weren't really front-line capable, but for the exercise they would do just fine.

They were second line Clan Mechs acquired from the Republic military after the Blackout by an unscrupulous smuggler in what was once Prefecture III. However dealing with unscrupulous smugglers had its risks and the Mechs had arrived without any of their weapon components.

The Fusiliers had lacked access to the Clan Tech necessary to replace the company of Mechs' ER PPCs or dual ER Medium Lasers with their proper Clan-tech, Instead their _Pack Hunters'_ weaponry had been replaced with its Inner Sphere equivalents though the two B-Pods were absent entirely to accommodate for the extra weight required by the Inner Sphere ER PPC and an additional ton of armor.

“If Caselton were attacked these Mechs could be used for recon and light skirmishing, but they're not exceptional and using Inner Sphere tech took away a lot of their punch. The extra armor is nice but without those B-Pods they're more susceptible to swarming from Battle Armor.” Aaliyah had told him at one point to help him prepare for the night's exercise.

Aaliyah was the other girl in their squad, and she was fairly . . . well, Had had decided to call it 'eccentric' and leave it at that. Her hair was dyed black with her bangs dyed blue, Hadrian hadn't known her hair was dyed black until Vika revealed that Aaliyah was actually one of her cousins, and in addition to the pale skin-tone she'd inherited the blond hair of their shared bloodline. She wore black makeup as well, even though the other girls in the Sibko didn't wear makeup at all as apparently Ryza looked down on such acts of beautification.

Then again Hadrian didn't consider Aaliyah's makeup to be beautifying at all, instead it combined with her naturally pale complexion just made her seem almost cadaverous and when he'd made the mistake of saying so within her earshot she'd excitedly said that that was exactly what she was trying to achieve he'd nearly taken his categorization of her from 'eccentric' to 'weird' but he guessed maybe it was like war paint or something. Maybe that was why Ryza tolerated it.

All the same whether she was weird or eccentric Aaliyah was a solid enough teammate, and had coached their whole squad through their classical literature lessons though Hadrian could have done without her one-woman rendition of Hamlet complete with voices.

If nothing else Aaliyah was easy to talk to but the final member of their team, Teyrn, was a different story and as taciturn as Rachel but so far without the moments of levity that showed that Rachel wasn't some automaton under it all. The boy was aloof and quiet though never outright separating himself from the group he seemed to keep his distance in as much as he was allowed from Hadrian specifically.

At first he'd thought that would mean they wouldn't get along, but after a while and with a little help from Hikau, Hadriam came to understand that it was strangers in general and not him specifically that the other boy had trouble with, a problem Aaliyah was going a bit out of her way to try and break him of and over the past few weeks they'd started to get along much better and it had been quite the surprise when it was Teyrn who had opened up to tell him of the _Pack Hunter IIs_ heat issues while the squad was preparing for the mission.

“The real problem is how hot they run. For a thirty ton Mech to mount an ER PPC it doesn't have a lot of room for Heat Sinks. Fire it just a couple of times and be prepared for a sauna, even the natural cold of Caselton's tundra does nothing to help so try to make your shots count or you'll be shutting down before too long.”

Of course Hadrian knew even a Mech with lots of Heat Sinks would start to run hot after a while, the very act of operating the war machines in battle tended to leave the cockpit on the toastier side he'd heard but activities such as running and jumping could also start to build up heat as Hadrian had learned from the simulators.

But it was surprising and rare to hear Teyrn talk at all, much less to offer advice.

Hadrian felt nervous, but excited as well. Piloting a real BattleMech in a war game . . . it was more than he'd expected when his father signed him up for this program, more than he'd hoped for.

But all those things had been said when the sun was still out in the sky. Now as the evening chill of the too cold to begin with Caselton night was in full effect Hadrian was looking forward to being in a toasty Mech cockpit, and as their instructor gave them their last instructions before they'd be given leave to board their Mechs Hadrian struggled to pay attention and keep his eyes off of the _Pack Hunter II_ that he'd been assigned.

Rachel and Vika's father Ragnar was the one speaking to them as the ten of them prepared to climb aboard their BattleMechs for the engagement, he told them that they were to seek out and engage two lances of militia Industrial MODs and one lance of militia light BattleMechs.

“A pair of _Jenners_ and a pair of _Clints_ ,” Hikaru, who was standing besides him whispered, luckily managing to avoid Ragnar's notice and thereby ire.

The older Mechwarrior told them, “I will be in the area in my own Mech as an observer. Obviously your lasers and PPCs are depowered, firing them will create a light show and register on the target's computer as damage but you won't actually inflict any. The militia Mechs similarly will be firing depowered energy weapons and dummy rounds, the worst they can do to you is scratch your paint, however I expect you to fight like true Clan Mechwarriors, so if your Mech _does_ receive scratched paint _you_ will be repainting it. Any questions, sibbies?”

Vika had told him that “sibbies” was a derogatory term for Clan trainees but not actually being a clanner Hadrian wasn't affected by it and considered it just part of the window dressing of the Sibko program, like having to avoid speaking in contractions around Ryza.

“What if we run into trouble? Like Capellan raiders or something?” Leone asked.

“In the absurdly unlikely event of an actual threat I will intervene and hold them off until the rest of the Fusiliers are rallied from The Nest. There is no switch that will turn your weapons live, they will need to be adjusted by one of our technicians so you are useless in a fight. Your _Pack Hunter IIs_ are capable of running one hundred eighteen kilometers per hour, if there is _actual_ danger I expect you to get away from it, or else lead it towards me.”

That said and understood Ragnar gave them all one final appraising look and Had wondered if he felt any pride in his daughters, especially Vika who would be leading the exercise as their 'Star Captain' a right she'd won over Hikaru in a simulated Trial the day before.

If he did it was only betrayed by the slightest of grins as he told the ten of them, “Go on then and show these weekend warriors what you fledgling Phoenixes are capable of.”

Hadrian needed no second bidding, eagerly rushing across the catwalk to the cradle where his assigned _Pack Hunter II_ waited.

Though made with Clan technology it was popular design in both the Republic of the Sphere and the Draconis Combine, so Hadrian had seen the agile little Mechs before in parades and in old holo-vids. He'd never imagined he'd pilot one and truth be told he'd rather be taking his father's _Awesome_ for a spin but piloting _any_ Mech was exciting.

The sixteen year old climbed into the cockpit and strapped himself in. The _Pack Hunter II's_ cockpit stank of sweat and Hadrian knew that that was the scent of warriors who had fought many a previous battle and emerged on top.

Or at least survived.

For this scenario they would be playing a binary of Ghost Bear Mechwarriors hunting Caselton militia. With Clan Ghost Bear having cut a swathe through the Draconis Combine and the Republic in a bid at Terra a decade ago before the Republic had activated its shield they were still quite a ways distant to Caselton, but everyone had agreed in the event of a clan incursion it was more likely to be the Bears than the Jade Falcons or Snow Ravens.

Though last Hadrian had heard the Snow Ravens and the Federated Suns were on quite friendly terms, and while the Ghost Bears might have to take a bit of a trip to reach Caselton for the purposes of the exercise they worked as well as any other clan.

Though Hadrian had personally always had a bit of admiration for the Wolf Clan, and from what he could remember it was the Wolves-in-exile who had first designed the _Pack Hutner II,_ so it seemed to him that they might as well say they were Clan Wolf.

But really none of it would matter. Like calling them sibbies and avoiding contractions it was all just window dressing, what mattered was that he was taking real steps towards becoming a proper Mechwarrior.

“Alpha Star report ready op.” Vika ordered over the comm.

A series of voices responded with 'ready op' then Hikaru made the same command to Beta Star and Hadrian reported, “Beta Five, ready op!”

“Cadet Star Commanders,” Ragnar growled over the comm, “move out and good hunting.”

They did exactly that, though they hadn't been hunting for long before they found their quarry though.

Actually it was quite a bit faster than they'd expected.

“I am reading five contacts, Industrial MODs.” Leone was the one to report them.

“I am reading them too . . . but they are not the usual. The militia must have new equipment.” Hikaru said. “Usually they send _Carbine_ Construction MODs and _Crosscut_ Forestry MODs.”

“Sensors read these as fifty five tons, heavier than either of those.” Vika told them. “In any event five Mechs is not two lances, we do not know where the rest of them are. Proceed with caution, could be a trap.”

_Here we go,_ Hadrian thought with excitement.

His first battle, even if it was just a game.

 


	14. Clearly Bandits

– **== Chapter 13 ==–**

 

**Near Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**September 1st, 3145**

 

Vika bit lightly on her lower lip as she watched her sensors. They were clear of any sign of additional Mechs, though experience told her that the Militia's _Jenners_ could close distances absurdly fast it seemed odd for the rest of the Industrial lance to be in hiding as well.

Their opponents were using passive sensors, which meant that without the link to The Nest's sensor stations the Mechs would not have been spotted. That was the reason that the militia usually engaged them in the plains rather than near the base. Perhaps they didn't realize they'd been spotted yet, though the Caselton militia was well aware of where the network began and ended.

_Maybe we're not supposed to be getting this sensor data for this exercise?_ Vika wondered, _Or are they using it to lure us into a trap. Why have their own sensors on passive though?_

“What do you think, Rio?” She asked on a private channel, “Should we engage them? It stinks of a trap to me.”

“It is unusual,” He granted, “Perhaps we should investigate and probe them first. I can take Epsilon and issue the challenge if you like. That way Delta is left free to respond to any additional threats. If nothing else we can see what sort of modifications these Salvage Mechs have.”

Vika considered that, and had to admit it was a pretty obvious answer. As a commander she should have been the one to come to that decision on her own but she had asked Rio his opinion, she wouldn't grudge him for having ideas she agreed with.

“Aff, Star Commander, I am in agreement. Take Epsilon in and Delta will watch your backs. Do not engage the enemy outright, ascertain their strength, we will be close behind.”

The plan was passed from the two squad commanders to their respective stars and Vika watched the five Mechs of Epsilon speed up, running ahead of the rest of the pack into the cold dark Caselton night.

There followed a few long minutes where she continued to watch her sensors waiting for the _Jenners_ to jump out as if to yell, “Surprise!” but the moment never came.

Instead she heard Rio's voice suddenly come through the comm announcing, “Enemy running!”

“What is their heading?” Vika asked.

“Away from the base, towards the hills,” her sister Rachel responded.

“Pursue at a safe distance, Epsilon, if their sensors are still passive keep to the edge of them. Delta is coming up to assist, there are many places in the hills to hide an ambush.”

“Aff Star Captain. We will be cautious.” Rio assured her.

But Vika had a strange uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach as they went. To her own squad she said, “Do not let them out of your sensor sight, Delta. If they wander into a trap it is on us to pull them out.

 

They were getting dangerously close to the mercenary base in search of other entrances now but Diana reassured herself that if the mercenaries weren't able to repair their Omni Mechs they likely didn't have many BattleMechs to worry her forces with.

And even if they did the presence of some Industrial Mechs—assuming the base's sensor array was powerful enough to pick up their Mechs while running passive sensors, would likely cause no alarm. Just some farmers out taking their AgroMechs for a spin, some woodsmen who had wandered in their Forestry Mechs too far from the forest perhaps.

In the worst case scenario their _Hyenas_ were MODs, capable of putting up a fight of their own . . . provided that fight was a fighting retreat. Their dual ER Medium Lasers would impress few opponents but they could be the difference between life and death in their line of work.

Still Diana jumped slightly when _Alpha_ suddenly bleeped the warning she'd been dreading. The contact, whatever it was, danced in and out of her sensor-range for a moment before disappearing. She frowned at the sensors and whispered to the Mech, “Come now, not this again.”

She gave her sensors display a slight pat in the hopes that luck would win out and she would receive no further scares. Instead she again received the warnings of a contact at the edge of her sensor range.

“Is anyone else reading anything?” She asked.

“This again?” Burk scoffed. “My sensors are clear, _Commander_.”

“Clean.” Another lancemate responded, though Diana was too busy being annoyed at Burk questioning her yet again, or sarcastically referring to her as 'commander' to register mentally whom it had been.

She responded with the restraint she could manage, “This again, Burk. Again, and again and every time we are on a hostile world because it is better to be safe than dead.”

“You should rip out that hunk of junk's sensors and replace them.” Burk said, sounding as if he were stifling a yawn.

“Truly? Perhaps I should take the parts from your Mech.”

“You can try.” Burk said casually, but the challenge was out there for a moment before their other comrade, Greene spoke up.

“I have something too.”

Diana's moment of vindication left her feeling no triumph but instead irritation. “Very well, we will move off, head for those hills in search zone Kappa, no need to run. Just try to look like a bunch of innocent farmers taking their AgroMechs for a stroll.”

“How are they detecting us?” Burk asked.

“We do not know that they are,” Diana reminded him, “but if they are let us try not to arouse suspicion.”

The small group of Hyenas trotted off towards the hill only for their contacts to continue to dance along the edge of their sensors, and now _Alpha's_ computer had enough time to process what it was seeing.

A _Pack Hunter II._ Nearly half the weight of the _Hyena_ but a machine built for war. Popular in the Republic military they might have been a holdover from Caselton's time with the Republic but Diana wouldn't have imagined the militia, which was based on Embrasure would respond to her presence on Merlon so quickly.

Could it be one of the mercenary Mechs? It was not an Omni, but it might still be mercenary all the same.

Either way she would prefer not to get involved with it. The _Pack Hunter II_ had an arsenal that could and would turn _Alpha_ into a smoldering heap long before she could close the distance to use her ER Medium Lasers to return fire.

The fifty five ton _Hyena_ was just a medium Mech as far as the massive machines reckoned but among Industrial designs it was one of the larger.

Originally designed and produced in small number for Solaris 7, the Game World where Mechwarriors from all over the Inner Sphere gathered to test their skill, or at least where they had until the Wolf Clan took the world over. The _Hyena_ had started to see much wider production after the Jihad.

But all that said Diana's outfit was lucky to field five of them, and with the money they might be able to make from this job they could very well buy five more, that was reason enough not to give up and make a run for the _Trove_ right away, though the fact that the Pack Hunter could both out-range them and out-run them was another.

“They are not giving up,” Burk growled over the comm, “if we have been spotted let us at least switch to active sensors and see what we are dealing with.”

“Yes, because when they detect military-grade sensors they will absolutely believe that farmers have--” Diana began sarcastically but it seemed she had erred in making her first word 'yes' because before she could finish Burk had activated his sensors and with a scream of alarm his _Hyena_ suddenly kicked into full speed.

Diana swore under her breath but knowing Burk was no coward recognized that the wise thing to do was accept that they'd been made one way or the other and activate her own active sensors.

But when the formation of ten Mechs showed on her screen she only felt confusion.

A formation of ten Pack Hunters? Why would down on their luck mercenaries have these Mechs and in these numbers? And if these were the Mechs the source had suggested need Clan components to be brought online why were they up and about now when they were supposed to be locked away in a vault?

And why were they thirty ton second-line Mechs and not rarer and more valuable Omni Mechs? Had her source been wrong?

Diana had a lot of questions though the decision to kick _Alpha_ into gear and follow Burk as he ran for the hills was not something she needed to ponder on too hard.

What was worse was when the two stars of Pack Hunters broke into obvious pursuit in just the manner she had hoped they wouldn't and she was left with even _further_ questions when the lead Mechwarrior transmitted to her, “This is Star Captain Vika of Clan Ghost Bear. My binary and I have spotted you, Inner Sphere _surat._ Surrender now or you will be shown no mercy.”

Diana was at an absolute loss for words.

Ghost Bear? On Caselton?

It was possible, _unlikely_ but possible. She'd heard that the Ghost Bears were raiding along the Draconis border but surely Caselton was _far_ out of their range . . .

_And it would be just my luck to get caught out here on the same night the Ghost Bears are raiding,_ Diana thought bitterly.

The night lit up as the Mechs fired their warning shots, the blue-white glow of man made lightning from the _Pack Hunter IIs_ ER PPCs lit up the ground near Diana causing her to jump in her seat.

Though _Alpha_ was outfitted with a pair of ER Medium Lasers against the firepower of the ER PPC each of the lighter _Pack Hunter IIs_ mounted the lasers would be poor competition and even though the _Hyena_ was fast the _Pack Hunter II_ was faster, there was no chance she or her people could outrun them.

She had no choice, she had to respond, “Stravag, hold your fire! This is Star Commander Diana of Clan Sea Fox, Fox Khanate, Delta Aimga! We are _not_ Inner Sphere _surats_!”

There was a pause and then Star Captain Vika responded, “I do not know what kind of game you are playing, but I have given you my warning. If you are not with our Davion foe you are clearly bandits and we will deal with you accordingly.”

“Star Captain I assure you I am who I say I am,” Diana said, “Our business here should be in no conflict with your own, this is just a coincidence! We are only here on a . . . surveying expedition!”

“This world has no mineral resources to speak of, and you are not piloting Mining Mechs. If you truly are of Clan Sea Fox you do not appear to be here to trade, so what are you doing here? Careful, lies cost lives.”

Diana knew her Mechs were well in range of the ER PPCs. She was still confused about why she was facing Clan Ghost Bear at all, but she had to hope that they would be willing to listen to reason.

She considered their sub-par equipment coupled with the youthfulness of the Star Captain's voice. _A Ristar,_ she thought, _ambitious no doubt,_ so she said, “We are recovering Clan property from _Dezgra_ mercenaries, Omni Mechs stolen from true Warriors like you and me. Leave us to our business and I will grant one to you in exchange.”

“You are joking!” Vika laughed over the comm, “Omni Mechs hidden away on this backwater world?”

“We have the word of a trusted source, I assure you.” Diana said.

“And you attempt to bribe me with one as if I would put personal gain above the good of my Clan?” Vika asked viciously. “Power down your Mechs and surrender so that we may get to the bottom of this.”

“Star Commander those ER PPCs will rip through our armor like a hot knife through--” One of her Mechwarriors, a lug head named Brand began but Diana cut him off.

“I know that!”

“We cannot fight in these Mechs! They have range and speed advantage over us!” Burk added.

“I know that!” Diana snarled back, then to the Ghost Bears she said “This is Star Commander Diana, and as I am neither _Dezgra_ Inner Sphere nor bandit I demand to be treated fairly.”

“Very well. You desire fair treatment? I will only engage you with one of my Stars.” Vika told her.

Diana's hand unconscionably went to the rabbit's foot she wore around her neck, “I did not mean that,” she said quickly.

“Then surrender and power down, if you are who you say you are you will be treated . . . fairly.” Star Captain Vika said coldly.

_Typical Ghost Bear,_ Diana thought bitterly. Could her luck get any worse tonight?

She swallowed a lump in her throat and with some difficulty she said, “I . . . surrender.”

“A wise decision. Shut down your Mechs, a patrol will be along shortly to collect you. If you truly are who you say you are I am sure you will be allowed to go free.”

It sounded promising, she and her Mechwarriors each had their Codex to prove their identity and their Jump Ship was waiting at one of the system's pirate points. If nothing else word would get to the Aimga that they had been taken and ovKhan Clarke would surely negotiate their return.

But still Diana scoffed. With her luck her codex would glitch and tell them she was a bandit.

Or worse, a freebirth.

 


	15. Caged Fox

– **== Chapter 14 ==–**

 

**Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters “The Nest”**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**September 1st, 3145**

 

“What in the name of Kerensky is Clan Sea Fox doing poking around our base?” Lindsay asked as Ragnar explained the . . . unusual conflict his cadets had engaged in.

“Someone clued them in about the Mech Vault. Apparently they recommended they sell us the equipment to get our secret horde of Omni Mechs running.”

Lindsay laughed, “When were you going to tell me about this secret stash, Kommandant? We already restored _Caladbolg_ and _Godhand_ , I have trouble believing Clan Sea Fox would care too much about what's left.”

Ragnar shrugged, “Whoever told them about the vault might have misrepresented its contents, maybe in order to trick them into challenging us more publicly, maybe to make dealing with us seem more profitable to the Clan. Still, supplies from the clan might be useful getting the  _ Pack Hunters  _ up to snuff.”

“I won't disagree by any means, but it doesn't seem they came here to trade. So how did the salesmen end up on our doorstep in Salvage Mechs?” Lindsay asked.

“Ah well apparently they decided that since we were Dezgra mercenaries they didn't need to deal fairly with us. But from what it sounds like this Star Commander acted under her own discretion in the theft attempt.”

“Oh I'm sure.” Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Sea Fox doesn't have a problem doing business with mercenaries, hell they didn't have a problem selling Old Phoenix the parts we needed for  _ Caladbolg  _ and  _ Godhand  _ initially _.  _ Even if we assume this Star Commander acted on her own,”

“Which of course we don't,” Ragnar acknowledged,

“The question becomes what caused them to think it was more beneficial to steal from us than to do business with us?”

“Perhaps they thought they could do both.” Ragnar shrugged again. “We are fairly desperate, are we not? The Federated Suns I mean.”

They both knew the answer, so Lindsay chose not to say anything about that. Instead she asked, “They still think we're Ghost Bear?”

“They do.” Ragnar nodded. Lindsay could see the conflict in the Kommandant's eyes at that mention.

His daughter Vika had thought on her feet once she realized the contacts she'd picked up were bandits instead of part of the training exercise. Ragnar—and Lindsay—were pleased by the outcome but the truth was that Vika had led nine other youths into a combat situation in Mechs that were functionally unarmed.

She'd been lucky to bluff them, but her bluff might just pay off for the Fusiliers as a whole in the long run.

“So Sea Fox may be willing to sell us Clan components? Enough to get our Clan Mechs back up to spec?” Lindsay asked.

“Potentially. Bear in mind this Star Captain still thinks she's been captured by Clan Ghost Bear.”

“Who's doing her interview?” Lindsay asked, feeling like she knew the answer.

“Ryza, of course. I popped in for a bit, and Marcus. We've tried to keep the illusion going, we even had Old Phoenix and Alexis go out to collect them,” Ragnar said.

Lindsay smiled at the thought. Her father and Leftenant Alexis Blair piloted the regiment's two functional Omni Mechs, a  _ Thor  _ and a  _ Mad Cat  _ respectively. She asked, “Haven't they noticed we're not wearing the colors of any Ghost Bear Galaxies?”

“Blues and gray probably look close enough, and besides it  _ is  _ late and fairly dark. I think they're suspicious, but they have very few options other than cooperation at this point.” Ragnar shrugged.

Lindsay considered for a moment then took a slow deliberate breath. She told Ragnar, “It seems we have a secret admirer.”

“You mean whoever it was that told the Foxes we needed Clan components?” Ragnar reasoned and Lindsay nodded her confirmation.

Ragnar nodded back slowly, “Whoever it was they seem to want us better prepared. Of course it would have been easier just to tell Sea Fox that we have money and a shipping business. Hell it makes sense for us to be in business together, and we might be. Have you talked to Dom about that?”

Lindsay shook her head, “I avoid talking to Dom about business matters as much as possible. But I doubt he's sought out Sea Fox for business, or if he has he's probably working with a different . . . what was their word? Khanate?”

Ragnar nodded and said, “Actually that might well be the reason they tried to steal the Mechs from us. Though Caselton is in the Draconis March we are close enough to the Capellan March that we might fall into the territory of a different Khanate.”

Lindsay smiled and said, “In any event I think I'd like to meet this Star Commander.”

“Going to rescue her from Ryza are you?” Ragnar smirked.

“Oh I don't know about 'rescue' but she and I will definitely have some words. And I think I _would_ like Dom there too, wake him up if you have to.”

“To talk to a prisoner?” Ragnar asked.

“He's the Fenix with the head for business after all,” Lindsay said with a wink.

 

The interrogation room was not what Diana had expected. It was a confined space with a couple of chairs, one on either side of a single table but there was no harsh light or two-way mirror that she could see.

It could have been re-purposed, she supposed, by the Ghost Bears for their planetary operations. But what was their purpose on this Inner Sphere world? Were they looking for this Mech Vault too? The thought and anticipation that perhaps this vault was far more valuable than she'd been led to believe made Diana's stomach do somersaults.

Or perhaps it was her company. Diana felt queasy just being in the same room as this ancient, elderly Elemental Solahma. Clan culture and Trueborns in particular viewed signs of aging with great contempt and disdain.

Disgust even, and disgust was what Diana felt now. To imagine an act as cowardly as living to old age, to become such a drain on the resources of one's Clan.

This pitiful creature had overstayed her existence and failed to achieve a glorious and honorable death in battle, leaving Diana with no doubt that this was a Solahma unit that had captured her. Star Captain Vika's youthful voice could easily be explained away by her being a Freebirth, as often they were relegated to these second-line units as well.

It did make her wonder why a second-line Ghost Bear unit was on this world to begin with. Was this part of a garrison cluster? How far had the Ghost Bear line come without her Clan's notice? Had Caselton been conquered?

The base she'd been taken to was too large and well equipped for a mercenary company's base, especially a mercenary company that couldn't even afford to equip their Mechs properly, so she had no trouble believing that the Ghost Bears had been here for some time.

Besides Inner Sphere mercenaries tended not to have Elementals, not even if they were Solahma.

“You seem unhappy, Star Commander,” The Elemental growled at her in a low, husky voice that Diana recognized from her years in training as that of an elder mocking someone they saw as a child. It was difficult not to feel as if that were exactly the situation not only because of the age of the Elemental but because the woman towered over her as if Diana herself were only a small child.

But she was a Trueborn Mechwarrior and she had been through this sort of thing before. This Elemental was wasting her time, her glare was likely intimidating in its day but now it was simply the wrinkles around her eyes that caused Diana to flinch and look away.

“You expect me to be glad?” Diana scoffed, choosing to answer the question anyway simply to cut through the long silence that had gripped the room ever since that blond Mechwarrior called Ragnar had left claiming he would fetch his Star Colonel to make the final decision regarding her fate.

Of course Diana fully expected to be released.

“I would be. You are a bondswoman of Clan Ghost Bear . . . you will be a part of a proper Clan again. Perhaps as a technician . . .”

“I am a Mechwarrior!” Diana barked at her captor, unable to ignore the indignity that being assigned to a lower caste would be.

“Ah yes, a warrior's Mech that  _ Hyena.  _ More like a well equipped pirate I think _. _ If it were not for your Codex I would not believe you were anything less than bandit scum . . . ah but for Sea Fox there is hardly a difference,  _ quiaff _ ?”

“Neg!” Diana shouted, “I surrendered to your Mechwarriors because I did not wish things to escalate to violence over an Inner Sphere dirt ball that my Khanate has no interest in, but I was not captured in battle and so I am no bondswoman and if you insult the honor of my Clan or our warriors of which I am one I will gladly meet you in a circle of equals!”

“I would snap you in half, child.” The Elemental sneered at her.

“Perhaps in your youth. But now you are old, I would--” Diana began but the Elemental cut her off.

“Be  _ snapped _ in  _ half _ ,” She said darkly, standing to her full height and towering over the Sea Fox Mechwarrior, rolling up the sleeve of her gray jumpsuit to show the thick corded muscle of her arm and glaring down with a look that actually did manage to make Diana suspect that it might still be possible for this old fighter to fight.

How old was she anyway? It was difficult to tell with Elementals. Could this being be as ancient as forty or fifty?

Or older still?

Diana scoffed and said, “I will not challenge you at this time. But only because I do not want to have to touch your wrinkled hide to punch it.”

“You have gloves,  _ quiaff _ ?” The Elemental challenged.

Diana scoffed again and said, “Aff. But they are fine gloves, I would not sully them with your ancient blood.”

“I appreciate that,” A new voice said from the doorway, leaving Diana to glance off to the side to see a new woman walking in. She was tall, but obviously not as tall as the Elemental. Her build was more that of a Mechwarrior dressed in the same dark blue coat and cobalt pants of the rest of the warriors Diana had seen though for this Mechwarrior the coat was a long Greatcoat with gray epaulets on the shoulders. Her hands were in her coat's pockets and she put off the air of someone in charge.

_ The Star Colonel?  _ Diana wondered as the new woman approached the interrogation desk, hands casually in the pockets of her coat. She had a pretty face, at least what Diana could see of it but her hair was absurdly long for a warrior and as she sat in the chair across from Diana at the table the Star Commander could see that it had been grown long to obscure the burn scars on her cheek.

_ I never thought Ghost Bears were given to such vanity,  _ Diana thought.

The man who entered with her on the other hand was clearly no warrior, he was out of shape and his hair was terribly gray, though it might have been black at one point. He and the woman did have the same eyes though, a clear icy blue.

Odd, but since he clearly was no warrior Diana spared him no further thought.

But the Star Colonel—Diana assumed—smirked and said, “Now stop playing with her Ryza. There is no need to torment our guest, she is not a bondswoman . . . yet.”

“Shall I leave you two alone with her then?” Ryza, the Elemental asked.

“Please. No need to worry, Dom here will protect me, won't you?” The woman asked, clearly mocking her friend who was clearly no warrior and who even audibly gulped at the prospect illiciting a gentle chuckle from her before she gently patted his shoulder and said, “Besides Marcus is right outside the door.”

“Very well.” The Elemental nodded and she left the room without another word leaving Diana alone with this new woman.

“You are in charge here,  _ quiaff _ ?” Diana asked.

“That's right,” The woman told her, “I'm the Dezgra mercenary you tried to steal from. Leftenant Colonel Lindsay Fenix. This is my cousin, Dominic Fenix. And you are?”

“Star Commander Diana of Clan Sea Fox,” Diana answered automatically as she tried to reason out just what was happening. She asked, “So you are working with Clan Ghost Bear?”

“Clan Ghost Bear has no presence on this world, those were my  _ Pack Hunters  _ that chased your star down,” Then she added, “That you  _ surrendered _ to, I believe.”

“You mean to tell me I surrendered to mercenaries?” Diana balked.

“Oh it's worse than that,” Lindsay said with a grin, “you surrendered to our cadets.”

Diana blinked and tilted her head to the side in confusion, “Your what?”

“Cadets. You interrupted a training exercise by our cadet sibko,” Lindsay said with a shrug, “That's what we call it any way. Our base's sensors picked you up but we were all ready to write you off as a bunch of AgroMechs out for a stroll. One of our sibbies on the other hand decided to investigate thinking you were part of the training exercise. Then she bluffed you and you fell for it.”

Diana glared, “Then my surrender is withdrawn.”

“Noted. But here you are in my interview office armed guards at the door and even if you could get back to your Mech without my permission there would be a whole regiment between you and your Drop Ship, so it's really in your best interest to cooperate.”

“And what sort of cooperation are you seeking?” Diana scoffed.

Dominic now spoke up and said, “A partnership. I take it you don't know much about the Fenix Fusiliers, it makes sense since they were only reformed after the blackout struck. But I'm sure you've heard of Caselton's House Fenix and our trade business.”

Diana shrugged, “Neg. I am a Mechwarrior, not a merchant.”

“And yet you intended to break into my vault.” Lindsay said with doubting eyes.

Diana shrugged again, innocently this time. “If you like. My role was just as a consultant to report back what Mechs were in this vault.”

Lindsay smiled and asked, “Would you like to see the list? Hell I can show you the vault itself.”

“Well,” Dominic said, “Let's not get carried away.”

“So there is a vault.” Diana said.

“I see no reason to try to hide it.” Lindsay told her.

“Well then in the spirit of hiding nothing shall we begin negotiations?” Dominic asked.

“Negotiations?” Diana asked back, “Why would I negotiate with you?”

“Because you and I both know there's nothing but benefit for the both of us if we work together. Your Clan works with mercenaries, you sell to mercenaries. I am offering you the chance to work with the Fenix family, our mercenary interests and our business interests. The fortification of Caselton is well underway and Clan equipment would go a long way towards making this fortress world impregnable once again.”

Lindsay added, “You might have used the fact that we are mercenaries to justify stealing from us but now that that's failed you might as well work with us.”

Diana rolled her eyes and said, “Well that seems like the sort of thing you'd have to discuss with the merchants.”

“I'm discussing it with you. My merchants can talk to your merchants, but I don't think you're as ignorant on trade as you're pretending to be so don't waste my time.” Lindsay told her.

“Now now cousin,” Dominic said, “let's not be hostile. Now Diana, let's be real, this is an opportunity for the both of us to make quite a profit.”

“How do you suppose?” Diana asked.

Dominic told her, “The Fenix family has Jumpships, Dropships and even if they like to think of themselves as an independent force the Fenix Fusiliers are more or less just another of our many assets. Now our family is leading the way in restoring the defenses of Caselton and with our neighbor about to be conquered by the Capellan Confederation we find ourselves in need of both the means to rebuild those defenses and a new trade partner.”

“Do you?” Diana asked with a shrug. “Well I do believe matters concerning the Capellan March fall under the jurisdiction of the Skate Khanate, and I am from the Fox Khanate, so it would seem I cannot help you.”

“And now we get to why she thought to steal the Mechs rather than offer to buy them, do we?” Lindsay seemed to guess and Diana scoffed in response but Dominic raised a hand at both of them.

He said, “Ah but Caselton itself falls within the Draconis March's borders. That, I believe, is the territory of  _ your  _ Khanate, correct? And besides, what is jurisdiction if not silly lines drawn on a star-map? Oh but if you'd rather we take our business elsewhere I'm sure the Skate Khanate would be delighted to do business with us. Through our workings with Tikonov we've dealt with them before in fact. I'd dare to say perhaps they would even have a newfound respect for us once we've regaled them with the tale of your defeat--”

“I was not defeated!” Diana snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. Tales of your _surrender_ ,” Dominic said with a gleam in his eye that made him seem almost a warrior in that instant before he said, “That is if you were to fail to really _seize_ the opportunity Caselton's unique position presents. Wealth and fortune for the Fox Khanate. And _you_ , Star Commander Diana, well I don't see why _you_ can't be the one to negotiate this most profitable of deals on your Clan's behalf. After all the profits would be substantial . . . if you could negotiate with us that is.”

Diana smiled slightly and said, “Well then . . . suppose I  _ could _ speak on the subject of trade . . .”

Dominic smiled back and slid a data-pad across the table to her saying, “Well if that were the case . . . this would be a list of the Mechs in that vault, the components we need to restore them. So tell me, what price would you think  _ fair _ ?”

Diana raised an eyebrow at him and said, “More than you are hoping to pay, I suspect. But by all means, let us negotiate . . .”

 


	16. Heroes

— **==Chapter 15==—  
**

**Earthwerks Incorporated Facility**

**Krasnodar, Tikonov**

**Capellan March, Federated Suns**

**October 18th, 3145**

 

Bowen held his breath as  _ Boyue's _ cross-hairs lined up on the Federated Suns  _ Jenner _ .

He only exhaled when the shots connected with the wily medium light design. The  _ Jenner's  _ protruding bowl-shaped cockpit jutted out of its center torso between its almost absurdly long legs like some vulgar joke, and Bowen's gauss slugs missed that tempting target only to hit home in the SRM racks that lined the torso behind it.

The shots ruptured something—whether it was the engine or some of the ammunition Bowen neither knew nor cared—turning the whole Mech into a ball of flame on two almost absurdly long legs. Bowen smiled with grim satisfaction, though he hadn't expected to get so lucky with the shot.

The _Jenner_ and its companions  were dressed in the royal blue and dark yellow checkered trim of the Fourth Federated Suns Lancers, and as Bowen turned his gaze on the next Mech to come charging at him from behind one of the large factory buildings of the Earthwerks Incorporated facility he noted Lien-zhang Ubina's _Charger_ leading from the front.

He thought nothing of it outside of an acknowledgment that that was where a commander belonged until the eighty ton Assault Mech suddenly rocked back from the shock and flash of a PPC.

Not one, but three bolts from the Particle Projection Cannons had ripped into Ubina's Mech, spread across the three sections of its torso. The force of such an attack would have been enough to send a lesser Mechwarrior to his knees, but as it was the Lien-zhang was rocked back before regaining his Mech's footing and returning fire with his  _ Charger's  _ LB 20-X AC, the cluster rounds going off like a shotgun, ripping into the body of a Federated Suns Lancers  _ Centurion  _ punching a series of holes and ripping armor from the Mech's torso.

The  _ Centurion _ was not the perpetrator of the PPC salvo that had ripped into the  _ Charger,  _ but the Lien-zhang knew better than to hold personal grudges in a pitched battle it seemed, and besides Bowen noticed that the younger Ubina's own ER PPC flashed and tore into the Capellan March Militia Schrek PPC carrier, though the sturdy tank held firm from the attack Bowen had little doubt that before it could fire another salvo Joseph would finish the job.

Even with the support of a full militia armor battalion the company of 4th Federated Suns Lancer Mechs was having a rough time of it against Lien-zhang Ubina's company, never mind their own armor support. The Warrior House pilots were of a form today, today mattered to much for anything less than perfection on their part.

Weight-wise the battle was an absolute mismatch, the 4th much preferring not to be caught on the defensive or without room to stretch their Mech's legs and make the best use of their high speed and as a lighter cavalry unit they would normally have had no trouble simply escaping from the Dai Da Chi Mechs.

However the Earthwerks Incorporated factory was too important a prize for them to sacrifice. As it was the Third Lancers were fighting tooth and nail to hold on to New Moscow, and Tikograd had already been retaken by the bulk of the Dai Da Chi's Mech forces as well, the Suns were running out of strongholds.  
Though Tikograd had fallen without much struggle, it seemed the Suns had the decency at least not to stain the capital city with their blood at least. All the same it meant that the Federated Suns were rapidly running out of strongholds, and without the factory there was a very real chance they would finally break.

But after weeks of battle with the Fourth lancers Bowen was pleased to finally have some of them up against a proverbial wall.  _ Run if you like,  _ he'd thought when the battle first began,  _ but doing so means giving up the Mech factory and your chances at repair and refit. _

Though the Republic had retooled the Earthwerks factory to building Industrial Mechs the facility still had the necessary equipment and capability to make more extensive repairs to the Lancers' Mechs, and that capability was exactly what Lien-zhang Ubina intended to deny them from this day forward.

And exactly what a full company of the Fourth Lancers' forces were prepared to lay down their lives trying to defend.

The Fourth Federated Suns Lancers were not a Regimental Combat Team, instead they were a Light Combat Team meaning that while their formation consisted of several regiments of heavy armor, artillery and aerospace fighters the Fourth sported only one battalion of BattleMechs, and a Command Company.

That they were willing to spare was was essentially a quarter of their BattleMech force—or would have been if they were at full strength but battlefield intelligence had reported that they most certainly were not—to defend the factory only went to show how desperate they were to keep it and once House Dai Da Chi denied it to them the conquest of Tikonov would be nearly complete.

This battle felt even more important to Bowen given that the sixty ton  _ Lancelot  _ leading this particular company was easily the heaviest Mech Bowen had seen the Fourth field he wondered if perhaps the Heavy Mech belonged to Leftenant General Glynn.

It would be quite the feather in his cap to claim such a kill, and with the Lien-zhang engaged with a  _ Centurion  _ and a Schrek he could hardly be blamed if he engaged such a dangerous target.

But the  _ Lancelot  _ was a wily opponent, keeping its distance to use its long ranger arsenal to its advantage.

Little did its pilot know that long range combat was Bowen's specialty.

The ruby beams of the  _ Lancelot's  _ dual ER Large Lasers cut into one of the  _ Helios  _ from the heavy lance that had replaced the company's Light Lance. The  _ Helios  _ was too focused on its own prey, a militia Demolisher tank to give the  _ Lancelot  _ the attention it deserved and as Bowen waited for his Gauss Rifles to cycle he saw the  _ Lancelot's  _ deadly ER PPC fire a streaking shot that tore into the SRM rack of the  _ Helios _ , causing an explosion in the shoulder mounted cylindrical launcher, though no doubt it was the Mech's CASE equipment that kept the damage from claiming anything more than just the launcher.

Unable to withstand the attack from both the Demolisher and the  _ Lancelot  _ the  _ Helios  _ began to back off, its back-jointed goat-like legs seeming unsteady as the pilot no doubt counted his lucky stars that the explosion so close to the cockpit hadn't claimed his entire machine.

A  _ Ti Ts'ang  _ from its lance rushing in to support it, dropping its axe on the Demolisher, and once Bowen's Gauss Rifles had cycled he opened fire on the  _ Lancelot _ .

He fired one shot that struck the enemy Mech dead in the center torso, though his second shot slammed into its left leg instead, damaging the limb but not enough to remove it.

The Mech did teeter however, and a salvo from Bowen's LRM 10 was enough to finally send it toppling over, falling on its back though the way it rolled and began to rise again made it obvious to Bowen that its Mechwarrior was far from defeated.

The pilot of the  _ Ti Ts'ang  _ it seemed was not going to allow that brave soul to get to his feet however, nor would Bowen have wished for him to. The sixty ton Mech of Capellan design was like an ancient armored warrior carrying a double-headed battle axe and as it closed the distance to the fallen  _ Lancelot  _ in quick strides its axe raised it was like a zealous executioner about to deliver the kill stroke.

Bowen considered the Federated Suns Mech utterly doomed but a salvo of SRMs from one of the militia vehicles frustrated the  _ Ti Ts'ang's _ charge enough that the  _ Lancelot _ was able to rise to its feet and turn its oddly jutting torso towards the  _ Ts'ang _ and unleash an unexpected attack.

Not with its ER Large Lasers or its ER PPC, but instead by charging for the Mech and striking it low at its center like a grid-iron player making a tackle. The  _ Ti Ts'ang  _ was caught off-guard—so was Bowen for that matter—and the Lancelot's speed and power sent the similarly-massed Capellan Mech to the ground face—and cockpit—first where the militia armor continued to hammer it with SRMs.

Bowen turned his Mech to face the still running  _ Lancelot  _ but the  _ Helios  _ was closer.

The Mech was like a satyr from ancient Terran myth except that it had two—well now one—cylindrical missile racks on its shoulders and its arms ended at the elbows with what appeared to be turrets on a ball joint.

One of those turrets was a Gauss Rifle every bit as powerful as either of Bowen's own, but the other was equipped with ER Medium Lasers, which the  _ Helios  _ fired, both scoring hits on the  _ Lancelot's  _ already damaged center torso.

Bowen added  _ Boyue's  _ own Medium Lasers to the mix, and his SRMs once the now slowing  _ Lancelot  _ came into their range.

It was the shot to its back from Lien-zhang Ubina's LB 20-X however that finished the job, the  _ Lancelot's  _ jutting torso bursting outwards in flame and the bulbous head of the Mech exploding.

The head however was exploding not from the damage done by the AC round, but instead because its pilot had ejected, postponing his imminent demise.

Postponing because Bowen had no intentions of letting a Federated Suns Leftenant General survive, and his aim was very good.

He tracked the pod with one eye and  _ Boyue's  _ instruments, though the Mechwarrior did not fail to eliminate a fleeing Bulldog tank once his Gauss Rifles had cycled just to really make the point to the militia that they had been defeated.

The destruction of the  _ Lancelot  _ had broken the enemy's spirit only reinforcing Bowen's suspicion of who its pilot was. The  _ Centurion  _ that the Lien-zhang had been fighting was a smoldering ruin as well, and another enemy  _ Jenner _ , its leg crippled had popped its canopy, a sign of surrender.

Only five Davion Mechs survived to flee and less than half of the militia's armor battalion remained.

For Dai Da Chi though the  _ Ti Ts'ang  _ had failed to rise again, and one of the replacement  _ Vindicators  _ from the Lien-zhang's lance had been destroyed in the earlier part of the engagement the rest of their company was intact.

Damaged but intact and now in control of the Earthwerks facility, leaving little real distraction for Bowen as he scanned the sky. As soon as he saw the parachute open marking the  _ Lancelot  _ pilot's descent Bowen took aim and again fired one of his Medium Lasers. For most it would be a difficult shot, especially at such a distance but he did not need to hit the ejection capsule.

Just the parachute.

It was an easy shot for him. His laser burned a hole through the thing and sent the capsule plummeting to the ground like a stone.

“What the hell was that?” Joseph shouted over the comm.

“What?” Bowen asked, looking for whatever foe could have spooked the younger Mechwarrior but seeing that the armor battalion was still in full retreat and the Lancers Mechs were already long gone.

“Why did you do that?” Joseph demanded angrily, and it was a very long moment before Bowen realized the question was directed at him and not simply the younger warrior playing some sort of strange game, or speaking to a foe.

It was a private comm, there was no one else the younger Ubina could have been speaking to.

But Bowen was still confused as to just what the problem was. He asked, “What do you mean?”

“That Mechwarrior you killed, the battle's over you didn't have to do that!” Joseph explained.

“I didn't have to let him live either.” Bowen answered easily.

“That can't be who we are, Pai-zhang!” Joseph snarled at him, “We are Warrior House Dai Da Chi, the best of the best. We do not need to be murderers!”

Bowen rolled his eyes in the privacy of his cockpit.

However because the man had had the presence of mind to speak to him on a private comm instead of daring to shout at him in front of their the rest of their lance, or worse their whole company and the Lien-zhang as well he would be patient with him.

He said to Joseph, “It is not murder. It is better for the Confederation that a dangerous enemy is slain and better for his own legacy that he died bravely on the field of battle. When they write the history of this battle they will not care about Joseph Ubina or Bowen Jiang, but they will remember Leftenant General Wallace Glynn. I believe that the Capellan people deserve to read that a hated enemy was slain by the warriors of Dai Da Chi, the best of the best as you so eloquently put it.

“As for his own people let the Federated Suns hold him up as a martyr if it salves their pride, and let the more intelligent among them recognize the warning his death at our hands serves to those who oppose the Chancellor and the Celestial Throne. In this way he achieves more in death than he could in life, and history will remember him.”

“And what if that was not the Leftenant General? What if that was just a Federated Suns Mechwarrior?”

Bowen blinked in confusion before offering the obvious answer of, “Then he does not matter any more than you or I and his death is nothing but benefit to the Capellan people. He will not be remembered as anything more than just another Davion oppressor.”

“Who did not need to die that way.” Joseph said firmly, before repeating, “That  _ can't _ be who we are, Pai-zhang.”

Bowen asked, “Who would you have us be, Ban-zhang?”

“Men of honor devoted to the Chancellor and the Capellan people. Warriors without peer whose reputation of skill rather than brutality is enough to put fear into any foe!” The younger Ubina answered.

The Pai-zhang nodded slowly, wondering if he'd ever been so mind-numbingly idealistic when he was younger., and comfortable in the belief that he had not been he asked, “So you would have us be heroes, Ban-zhang Ubina?”

“I would.” Joseph answered without a hint of self awareness.

Bowen pointed with his  _ Cyclops'  _ hand towards the place in the city where the  _ Lancelot  _ pilot's pod had fallen and said, “Then look to an example. For was his defense of this facility against such overwhelming odds not heroic? History decides on heroes, and it chooses men who win wars or who die in glorious defenses. It does not choose living servants of the Celestial Throne because it is not our job to be heroes only to serve. If you wish to be called a hero there will be commoners aplenty to lavish the title on you once Tikonov is ours again, but you would be a fool to believe it. You are a servant of the Chancellor, an extension of his will and that is all you or I need aspire to be. You should already know this as a warrior of House Dai Da Chi.”

“I . . .” Ubina trailed off, but Bowen could hear from that one word that his own had struck home in the younger man's mind and a lifetime of training to be, as he'd correctly put it, the best of the best, was starting to overcome the naiveté of youth.

“I will pardon your outburst this time,” Bowen said graciously, “the history we are living is enough to carry any loyal Capellan away and it would be a fine thing indeed if we could live it with white souls. But we cannot and so I do not try. We are the Chancellor's servants, that is who we are, it  _ must _ be who we are, Ban-zhang.”

There was a long pause before Ubina quietly responded, “Yes . . . I understand. My apologies, Pai-zhang. Thank you for correcting me with such patience.”

Bowen did not have to say “You're welcome,” for reminding the man of his duty but the younger Ubina was a brother in the Warrior House ranks, and one under his personal command.

So he did.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful . . . except of course for the moment that the communication reached them that the Fourth Federated Suns Lancers, and what remained of the Third were in full retreat from the planet itself.

Tikonov was once again a part of the Capellan Confederation.

That night would be filled with celebration, liberated citizens dancing in the street welcoming their saviors and rejoicing at their restoration to the Capellan Confederation.

Though Bowen would later learn that Leftenant General Glynn had been part of the fighting that wiped out Burr's Black Cobras before the Fourth retreated, and not present at the Earthwerks factory his only thought upon learning that was,  _ Ah. Well unfortunate for the Cobras, but then what can one expect when you put mercenaries against real warriors? _

 

 

**Tikograd, Luster Luxury Hotel**

**Krasnodar, Tikonov**

**Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation**

**October 18th, 3145**

 

The streets of Tikograd were alive that night. Though the well fortified planetary capital had been spared much of the fighting now that the battle was over a different sort of chaos was spreading through her streets as swarms of citizens—now commoners—took to the streets en-mass waving green scarves and make-shift flags in celebration of the Capellan forces that now ruled their world.

Fireworks were being set like a colorful mockery of the carnage that had been on display just that same morning and Federated Suns banners and paraphernalia were burned or torn apart in wild displays of hatred against their former rulers as every man and woman in the streets seemed almost as if they were trying to outdo one another in their displays of patriotism to their new nation and the man watching it all from the window of his apartment considered that they may well have been.

Things like this could be a spontaneous showing of national affection and pride . . . or it could be part of the political game. The same political game he'd be playing before the night was through.

But it could also be done out of fear, he thought. Perhaps these people, most of them elder, remembered what life under the Confederation was like . . . and for some of them _maybe_ a return to that life was a joyous occasion.

Or perhaps they simply wanted to be _seen_ being loyal, to be _seen_ celebrating the world's return to Capellan rule. No one wanted to be seen as a Davion supporter, or worse collaborator after all old Daoshen Liao had shown the whole Inner Sphere—or as many as could be made to see it through the blackout—how he handled those who committed 'crimes' against his people with the mock trial and public beheading of Duchess Amanda Hasek when the Cappies took New Syrtis.

An act that no doubt would still be fresh in everyone's minds. The very action that had made Aaron's battlefield assassination such a devastating blow leaving the Capellan March all but headless and showing clearly that both on and off of the field the Confederation was wholeheartedly embracing the ideal that all was fair in love and most especially war.

But then when had that failed to be the case with them? Whether it was using biological warfare on civilian populations during the conflict with the St. Ives Compact or financing and encouraging terrorist groups in the Chaos March and then later the Republic the Confederation had long since made it clear that there were no lengths they wouldn't go to to win, and win they had here on Tikonov.

The Federated Suns Jumpships had yet to leave the system and already the streets were flooding with old Confederation loyalists, loyalists who had done precious little to throw off the 'oppressive yoke' of Davion rule until now, and the man observing doubted that it was only because they lacked the capability.

“You almost feel sorry for them.” His employer said.

The man turned and raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“They're so happy to be part of the Capellan Confederation again but many of them have never _been_ in the Confederation. I doubt they're prepared to say goodbye to all the rights they're about to lose yet there they are in jubilation.”

“I was just wondering myself how much of this celebration was manufactured,” the man admitted.

“You've been in this business too long,” His friend said with a laugh, “sometimes acts of patriotism are just acts of patriotism.”

“The thought did occur to me. I just don't trust it. How can anyone be _glad_ about being conquered?”

“To some of them it's liberation.” His companion said with a shrug.

“I don't believe that,” The man said, “I mean again the thought occurred to me. But even among the older population how many of these people would have been alive in the days of Capellan rule? Besides like you said, they're about to lose a lot of rights, rights that many of them have taken for granted since rejoining the Federated Suns.”

“That's not always enough to enrage a population. It's true that they'll see a reduction in their rights but whether they want to own a business or a BattleMech the path to citizenship is there and it will be made very clear to them. For many it won't be that much different from life in the Republic where again citizenship was earned, not simply given. I don't think the loss of a few rights will be enough to put a damper on their patriotism, if anything they might look at life under Davion rule as needlessly confusing. Too many options, no clearly defined path in life.

“Tikonov has a long history and much of it was spent in the Confederation, even when it was taken by the Federated Commonwealth, even when it became part of the Chaos March it still maintained a strong and proud Capellan tradition, and the Confederation even retook it briefly before the Jihad thanks to Sun-Tzu Liao's trickery. Though the population aged it's likely that cultural pride never went away, and though some of those raised during the days of the Federated Commonwealth have their loyalty to the Suns there is a fair number of those who would still have a soft spot in their hearts for the Confederation.”

The man grunted and asked, “Then why feel sorry for them? Other than our plans to rain on their parade tonight.”

“Because like I said, culture aside many of them have never _been_ part of the Confederation. Many of their children have enjoyed freedom too long to be very well suited to life in the Confederation. When one ignores the jackbooted side of the Confederation one can admire it, even pine for life as a part of it. However it is much harder to ignore that harsher side once that boot is stepping on you, and then there's no escape.”

The man nodded slightly, “I suppose that's so,” he said. “But the Republic might return one day. Or the Suns. I wonder if there will be liberation celebrations then.”

“I would not be surprised. Just as I'm not surprised by these ones. But in any event I have a Dropship to catch, and you have work to do if we want to stay ahead of the jackboot.”

“Aye,” the man nodded, “Time to ruin their celebrations.”

Before the night was through green banners weren't the only ones being waved through the streets of Tikograd. It would all start with one young person too overwhelmed by the sight of a burning sword and sunburst flag to contain himself, then a crowd would form, and then a march.

Soon the cries of “Confederation go home!” would ring through the streets and the jackboot would have no choice but to drop and by the morning no one would be celebrating anything.

By the morning some people would still be glad for the 'liberation' but others would be angry.

It was true Tikonov had a long history with the Confederation, its older population would recall it well. But it had a long history under Davion rule as well and for the past thirteen years since the blackout struck it had been a stronghold of Davion support first as the heart of Duke Aaron's Swordsworn and then as an integral part of the Capellan March when it finally returned to the Federated Suns.

Daoshen Liao would hardly have heard news that Tikonov had been recaptured before he heard news that the populace was taking to arms. Just as his father had done to Victor Steiner-Davion on countless worlds in the Chaos March Daoshen or at least his local Lords would find any authoritative action taken would only fan the flames of rebellion.

Turnabout was fair play after all.

The fight for Tikonov was hardly over, it had simply changed in nature and the nature it would take now was one that the Confederation might be surprised to learn its enemies were actually quite adept at.

“If I need a Mech I'll use it, but a dagger is easier used and disposed of,” The man quoted as he left the apartment.

It elicited a wry laugh from his employer who responded, “Well quoted, Ulysses.”

The Mechs had failed. It was time to start fighting with daggers.

 


	17. Feeling Small

— **==Chapter 16==—**

 

**Fenix Fusiliers Headquarters “The Nest”**

**Merlon, Caselton**

**Draconis March, Federated Suns**

**October 30th, 3145**

 

The news of Tikonov's fall had hit Caselton hard even if it wasn't totally unexpected. As Lindsay sat in her office with her command staff listening as her successor as first battalion's Kommandant, Bill Blair, outlined the plan to the Company Commanders and the Kommandants of the second and third battalions she could see in the faces of all the men and women assembled a desire to get into the action quickly.

A desire to get off of the sidelines and into the game so to speak. To prove not just that they were a force to be reckoned with but that the enemy wasn't invincible.

It was a feeling that many of the men and women of Caselton shared, and Lindsay herself was no exception. Her hands, real and artificial seemed to ache to grasp _Tyrfing's_ control sticks again and her heart went out to the people of Tikonov who had enjoyed generations of freedom first under the Republic and then again under the Federated Suns only to now see their rights and that freedom revoked under the yoke of the Capellan Confederation.

That, Lindsay thought, was the real hell of this war. Seeing world after world taken and knowing that it wasn't just a military defeat, but a loss of freedom. Whether to the Confederation or the Combine the citizens of the Federated Suns were seeing their lives fundamentally changed with little to no sign that things would or even _could_ go back to normal as the AFFS suffered defeat after defeat and as the borders were pushed further and further back.

By the reports Dominic's freighter captains had brought back with the last of their Tikonov cargo there was already an uprising and it had not taken long for it to turn bloody and martial law would no doubt be in effect by now. It might be no great exaggeration to say that civil war had come to Tikonov now, but against the might of the Capellan Confederation one world stood no chance and there was precious little the Federated Suns could do. With so many of her warriors dead or in chains how could the greatest of Successor States even try to fight back? With so many of her academies razed, so many of her Mech factories captured how could she ever recover?

At least for Dominic and the Fenix Mech half of the family there were the new dealings with Sea Fox to help salve the loss of Tikonov's business. Though Fenix Dropships were ostensibly still allowed to trade in Tikonov their cargo had so far been unfailingly declared 'contraband' and seized by the Confederation leaving little reason to return.

Sea Fox of course didn't have to worry about such measures yet, the Confederation was not quite willing to take the Clan on at this time but even so Caselton would need to deal with a totally different Khanate if they wanted to use Sea Fox as a go-between for getting goods to and from Tikonov so it seemed Dominic was happy—relatively speaking—to simply call it a loss and focus on the new prospects his dealings with the Fox Khanate had brought.

But for the Merc half of the line there was the question Lindsay was trying hard not to ask herself.

_Could we have made a difference if we were there?_

She guessed that Leftenant General Finnegan and his people were probably wondering the same thing. Though the Fourth Federated Suns Lancers had managed to make it off of Tikonov—by all reports they were heading to Exeter—it had been with devastating losses and worse still the Third Lancers hadn't been so lucky.

The LCT had been functionally destroyed on Tikonov. Of their armor and aerospace battalions those survivors too heavy to join the fast cavalry formation that was the Fourth would be shuffled into the Second, but with the loss of the First during the fiasco that was Palmyra and the Fourth and the Second being as badly damaged as they both still were the cold fact was that the Federated Suns Lancer Brigade was functionally out of the war for the time being.

How many brigades did the Suns have left?

The best thing she could do, the _only_ thing she could do was to stick to the plan and lure the Confederation to Caselton so that they could finally suffer a major defeat.

Lindsay nodded to Bill as he finished outlining the plans. She said, “Thank you, Kommandant. Hauptmann Reynholm, Delarue, Casal, I trust you all understand the roles your Companies will play in the raid.”

“Hit 'em hard and fast. Just what we do best,” Hauptmann Marfa Casal of the Fusiliers' recon company said with a crooked grin.

Reynholm and Delarue both just nodded their confirmation and Lindsay nodded back to them.

“Remember,” she told them, “we can't let anyone fall into enemy hands. We can't afford to lose a single Mech, so no pitched fighting, that'll come later. Hit 'em hard then back off, we're not there to retake Tikonov we're just there to throw rocks at the hornet's nest.”

“That is a _horrible_ analogy, cousin,” Morgan Fenix, her cousin—obviously—and Kommandant of the Third Battalion said with a laugh, which the rest of the regiment's command staff shared in, even Lindsay before they continued.

“It may not be a pleasant thought, but the analogy is at least fairly apt.” Her father, the Old Phoenix said still sporting a slight grin, “We're going there to poke the bear and provoke a response. We're going to agitate troops high off of a major victory in the hopes that they'll be too drunk from success to recognize the trap we've laid.”

“That trap does rely on forces that haven't arrived yet,” Ragnar pointed out.

“True enough, and the force that took Tikonov was larger than we expected meaning the force that hits us might be larger than we planned for,” Lindsay admitted, “but to be frank right now I feel like I could take on a whole Dai Da Chi lance myself, so if the rest of you can carry your share I figure we can be celebrating next Halloween on Sian, what do you say?”

There was another laugh, everyone knew Lindsay's statement was pure bluster.

There was no guarantee the Fusiliers would _see_ next Halloween, and if they did celebrate it on Sian it would likely be awaiting execution as enemies of the Capellan state.

_But let's not flatter ourselves, we're not that important yet._ Lindsay thought. _It's our job to change that . . ._

The truth was the prospect of fighting Dai Da Chi thrilled her and terrified her at the same time. No ragtag regulars or raiders these would be among the best of the best, some of the most elite of the Confederation's forces . . . and her job was to lure them into a trap specifically so that she could shame them and let the news of it spread across the the Capellan March.

_But let's not pretend that shaming a Warrior House won't have long-lasting repercussions,_ Lindsay thought with an absent smirk.

It was cathartic to imagine she could take on Dai Da Chi, and her role as Leftenant Colonel of the Fusiliers demanded she act as if she had nothing but confidence that her people would be up to the task of taking on a Capellan Warrior House, but the truth was she knew very well that Dai Da Chi and the other Warrior Houses had _earned_ their reputation. As much as she loved her Fusiliers as much faith as she had in them she knew that against even one Dai Da Chi battalion her regiment would be hard-pressed indeed.

But _if_ they could win . . .

The meeting devolved into light banter by the time there was a knock on the door, and Arisa poked her head in.

Lindsay raised her chin slightly towards Arisa, acknowledging her presence and bidding her enter. Though she wasn't part of the command staff Arisa and Jules were her Command Lance—for the moment they were the whole of it—so she was welcome in the meeting, and besides it was mostly over.

“I uh . . . I hate to interrupt,” Arisa said sounding apologetic, which was terribly unlike her and the first hint to Lindsay that whatever Arisa Ariyoshi was here to tell her it likely wouldn't be good news.

“It's fine, we're wrapping up here,” Lindsay said honestly. The officers had their marching orders, they knew what she expected from them.

But the look on Arisa's face was still grave when she came over and whispered to Lindsay, “I'm not going to lie, this uh . . . isn't good news. The _DeLeon's_ landing at the star port, and her Captain's asking to speak to you.”

“The _DeLeon?_ ” Lindsay asked, knowing it was the name of one of her family's Drop Ships but failing at first to remember its significance until she realized, “Oh! Alayne's ship? I didn't know the _Arnhem_ had made it back from Sakhara already.”

“That's just it, the _Arnhem_ didn't.” Arisa told her. “The _Arnhem_ won't.”

There was a low murmur through the room and Lindsay bade Arisa continue, “Go on. Whatever it is they deserve to hear it too.”

Arisa nodded and said, “Turns out when they arrived they found that Sakhara had been taken by the Draconis Combine, and the DCMS seized command of the Jumpship _._ Her crew came back on the _DeLeon_.”

Lindsay blinked slowly and felt a cold hand grip at her chest.

She felt the question she needed to ask lodge itself in her throat, and Arisa, no doubt realizing what it was quickly said, “The Captain said your niece is alive, you don't need to worry about that.”

“Thank god,” Lindsay said before she could stop herself, though she doubted any of her officers would grudge her that admission or relief.

The loss of Sakhara was a surprise to everyone.

“That's why I'm breaking this to you instead of Jules,” Arisa admitted, and Lindsay nodded her appreciation. Though he was freeborn and had spent much of his life in the Republic of the Sphere, Jules was still a Jade Falcon in a lot of ways and one of those was was not really understanding the importance Lindsay placed on family.

Arisa on the other hand understood it, even if having to be the messenger in this instance made her visibly uncomfortable, and Lindsay appreciated it even as Arisa continued, saying, “However you've lost the _Arnhem_ and the other two Dropships will make it back when they can. The _DeLeon_ was allowed to leave a bit earlier than the other two, and she's hitched a ride back as quick as she could on whatever Jumpships were headed this way.”

“And Alayne is aboard?” Ragnar asked. Alayne was his niece too.

“She's not. Neither of your Mechwarriors came back, but again the Captain says they're both alive. He was really clear on that point.” Arisa said.

Jhonen Fenix folded his arms and said, “Guests of the Dragon no doubt.”

Lindsay could see in her father the same feelings she felt; a desire to take the whole damn regiment to Sakhara overwhelmed by the knowledge that they just couldn't do it.

_How do you stop yourself from feeling powerless in this game?_ Lindsay wondered of the old man.

Arisa shrugged and said, “I'm sorry, he didn't say. He just said that they weren't on the _DeLeon,_ and he needed to speak to the Leftenant Colonel immediately. I sent Jules in one of the Cavalry VTOLs to go get him.”

“One of the VTOLs?” Reynholm asked, “Why not just redirect the Drop Ship to land in the Nest?”

“Because the _DeLeon_ is part of the Fenix Merch half of the family, her crew are Merch—er merchants, not mercenaries,” It was Morgan who answered, “Most of the crew will have their families and apartments on Embrasure, and after what they went through they'll probably just want to get home. Besides, it might not even have occurred to the Captain that he _could_ land his ship on the base, not everyone knows our landing pads are back up to proper order.”

Reynholm nodded and Lindsay told Arisa, “Thank you. I want to know as soon as Jules returns with the man. In the meantime people we still have a job to do. Let's focus on the task at hand first, once that's finished with the Celestial Throne we'll see what we can do about the Dragon.”

Her officers nodded and took their leave, except for her father and Ragnar.

“Someone should probably tell my sister . . . and Ragna as well. Marcus too, Elim's his brother after all.” Ragnar said, sounding as though he were volunteering even though Lindsay knew he'd want to be present when the Captain arrived.

“Sisko and Ryza will want to know as well.” Jhonen nodded.

Arisa said, “I can get the ball rolling on all that. Are you sure you want to go through with the raid so soon? I don't think anyone would blame you if you needed to delay it for a week or two to figure things out.”

“Not a chance,” Lindsay said, “I'll meet with the Captain but then it's straight to business.”

“Even if your niece might be a prisoner of the DCMS?” Arisa sounded skeptical.

Lindsay shook her head, “I don't want to imagine that, Arisa. But believe me I am, and if I need to take on the bloody Dragon to get my niece back I'll do that too, but first we shame the Confederation into hitting Caselton and give the March something to rally behind just like we planned.”

“The Confederation is at our doorstep, the Combine is still across the street so to speak. It would not be wise to fight a war on two fronts,” Ragnar mentioned, “Even if I want to load my Mech onto the _DeLeon_ and force her to head right back to Sakhara we have to think about the big picture.”

Lindsay nodded her agreement, and her father said, “Alayne and Elim are eighteen, in many parts of the Inner Sphere that's considered an adult even if it's not quite the age of majority here on Caselton. They've got the best Mechs we could give them and Ragnar here spent the last five years making sure they knew how to use them, our Chief O'Bannon spent as long teaching them to keep them running. I hate to say it, but as long as they're alive we'll have to trust them to hold their own for now.”

Arisa nodded. Then she smiled slightly and said, “Well if it turns out you need someone who looks the part and speaks the language to sneak in behind the lines and try to pull them out I'm not saying I volunteer . . . but I wouldn't turn you down either, Linz.”

“Let's hope that's not what we need . . . but thank you.” Lindsay said honestly. She was genuinely moved by the offer, and she knew that Arisa, having been a member of the Ghost Legion before and during the time the unit had been with the Swordsworn was no one to trifle with in or out of a Mech.

Arisa went to send the messages, though it was unlikely that Sisko would arrive before the Captain of the _DeLeon_ since as a Major in the planetary militia he was based on Embrasure with the rest of them. Lindsay would have to update him later on whatever the Captain told them.

It didn't take long for Marcus to arrive, the tall man keeping totally silent but folding his arms and looking anxious as Ragnar gave him the news about his younger brother.

It was a longer wait for Ragna and Ranger, the former of whom was retired and the latter of whom wasn't a warrior to begin with, though both made their homes in the Fenix Estate, not far from the Nest.

Ragna was only slightly older than Ryza but she showed her age in a far more pronounced way. Her once pale blond hair was now stark white with age and there wasn't a magician in the Inner Sphere able to hide the wrinkles on her face and neck, still the Ghost Bear bred trueborn held herself up straight and strong as a woman half her age.

Lindsay knew that continued existence was a sore subject for Ragna who wanted nothing more than to have died during the Jihad or even during the Dark Age or even last Tuesday, it didn't matter so long as it was in the flaming cockpit of a Mech in the heart of battle. Her Clan upbringing made her regard her old age as a liability to those around her but for Lindsay personally Ragna was an inspiration, someone to aspire to be like rather than someone to shun. If she reached a hundred and two years of age she hoped she would be able to stand as straight and look as strong.

Ranger on the other hand was only a decade older than Lindsay. She'd married John fresh out of the Republic's Mechwarrior academies, though at the time Caselton's militia had only had two active Mechwarrior positions available and they had gone to John and Sisko. Ranger—and Ragnar for that matter—had been alternates for a while, but eventually she'd resigned so that she could get about the difficult business of raising her daughter.

Though Lindsay and Alayne were close Lindsay and Ranger had always had something of a strained relationship even before the blackout. Though Ranger supported Caselton's return to the Federated Suns she was still John's wife—even if all evidence indicated she'd never see him again—and that seemed to mean that as John had held Lindsay in low regard over joining the Swordsworn Ranger too felt the need to at least keep her sister-in-law at arm's length.

For her own part Lindsay had to confess she'd been fine to do the same. Her problems after Arboris hadn't helped, but even now the fact that she was reminded of her older brother whenever she spent any amount of time around Ranger only added to her reluctance to have a proper familial relationship with the woman on their own terms . . . as childish as that might seem.

Still they both cared for Alayne and Lindsay's heart went out to her sister-in-law as her father filled the two women in on what they knew so far, which wasn't much until finally Jules arrived with two men, one of whom Lindsay recognized from his uniform if nothing else as the Captain of the _DeLeon,_ the other she felt as if she'd seen somewhere before, but she couldn't quite be sure.

Whoever he was he wore a gray jumpsuit with a black stripe down its center, the shoulders showed signs that a pair of patches had been taken off fairly recently.

Lindsay greeted them, “Welcome Captain and . . .”

The man in gray smiled and said, “Saeki. Koukin Saeki.”

“Saeki?” Jhonen asked, “As in Artemis Saeki?”

“That's right. I'm Theodore's son, and Artemis' grandson.” Koukin said with a nod, then he added, “Though these days my father goes by Takumi. Political reasons you understand, the Combine has undergone some changes and the radical former Coordinator is not popular these days, even if my father was named for Theodore Fenix it's not wise to be a man named Theodore for any reason in the Combine these days.”

“All right then,” Lindsay acknowledged, then she asked, “And what's your involvement in all this?”

Koukin smiled and said, “My father sent me here for a variety of reasons, but one of them is indeed to assure you that your two fledglings will be safe as long as the Fenix Fusiliers do not make any attempt to attack the Draconis Combine.”

Lindsay bristled and asked, “Then am I to take it that the Combine has no intentions to attack Caselton? Because we _will_ defend our world no matter who you're holding hostage.”

“My father doesn't have the position or authority to promise you anything one way or the other with regards to that, but he doesn't expect you not to protect yourselves or your world. But when it comes to offense he does ask that the Fenix Fusiliers not strike the Combine.” Koukin said.

Ragnar growled, “I think you will find we do not respond well to threats.”

“If you think the Fusiliers are afraid to get into it with the Legion of Vega you have no idea who we're about to pick a fight with,” Jhonen added but Lindsay raised a hand and the Old Phoenix fell silent.

Koukin nodded appreciatively at her and said, “The truth is that we had those kids surrounded and dead to rights. They put up a fight if that makes you feel any better, but once my father's Mech came within range its old IFF recognized the Mechs as _Caladbolg_ and _Godhand_ , and he ordered an immediate ceasefire. The truth is if it had been you down there, Old Phoenix, my father would have dueled you to the death . . . but he had no desire to end the lives of those children.”

“Thank god!” Ranger gasped, “But what happened after that?”

Koukin shrugged, “He made them an offer and they accepted it. More than that would only distress you I think, but they are safe, their Mechs are still theirs and they may very well return home eventually.”

“Distress me then. Where are they and what is going to happen to them?” Ranger demanded.

Koukin gave her an appraising look then finally he said, “They obviously can't attend Sakhara Academy, the DCMS pillaged it and last I heard the cadets and staff who hadn't been executed were probably wishing they had been.”

Lindsay felt a chill go through her whole body at the thought of Sakhara, the academy _she_ had attended being sacked, but then at Koukin's choice of words. The students and the staff had been _executed_? Not killed in battle, they'd been . . . what the hell was the Combine doing?

_Those snake bastards are monopolizing on the blackout,_ Lindsay realized angrily, _with no way for news to get out they can commit a dozen more Kentares Massacres and the Suns will never know. Palmyra wasn't enough? Beating us isn't enough? They need to do things like this?_

She punched her desk with her flesh and blood hand, a mistake to be sure but she barely noticed the pain, instead she was overcome with rage at the thought that her nation wasn't just being conquered by two longtime enemies her people were being murdered.

She glared at Koukin, but the look he gave her was surprisingly sympathetic. It confused her enough that she could hear him over her own rage as he said, “Luckily since your family's past mercenary service to the Combine is well known my father didn't have to work too hard to convince his superiors that your kids were just more mercenaries and the fighting in the streets of Memphis was just a misunderstanding. They weren't subjected to the same treatment as other Sakhara cadets, and they won't be ransomed back to you.”

“I'd rather they were ransomed, Dominic can pay a ransom!” Ranger cried.

“At least this way they keep their Mechs,” Koukin shrugged, “I don't know if you know how much that means to a Mechwarrior, ma'am, but I can tell you if it were me I'd take the execution over being dispossessed.”

“Good to know. So what, they're prisoners with Mechs? Or are they in your father's personal employ?”

“It's as they say, 'a bit of column A a bit of column B' I'm afraid. They're skilled pilots, they held their own against a whole star with Aerospace support. My father is going to need that kind of skill if he's going to fight Clan Ghost Bear.” Koukin said.

“Blake's blood!” Ranger shouted angrily, and Ragnar barely managed to stop his sister from punching Koukin right in his pretty face. “You're sending my little girl to fight against the god-damned _Clans_?”

Ragna however laughed and said, “You mean to tell me the Dragon and the Bear are at war as well?”

“That's the best news I've heard in months,” Jhonen said and Lindsay agreed. The Suns were being pounded on two sides, but if the Ghost Bears could pull some of the pressure off of the Suns whether they knew they were doing it or not . . . well that would be damn near a miracle at this point.

Koukin shook his head though and said, “Not so far as I know. It's just raids, but savage ones. They've been brutal and DCMS command is hoping having some units to pose as Clan Nova Cat will encourage the Bears to play a little nicer.”

“Why 'pose' as Nova Cat? Can't you just have the actual Clan Nova Cat engage the Bears for you?” Ragnar asked.

Koukin blinked, “Did you not know? I thought for certain news would have made it out of the Combine by now,”

“Don't play with us boy, what happened to them?” Ragna demanded.

The man's voice grew dark and even spiteful as he said, “They backed the right side of the Civil War, but not the winning side. So the new government exterminated them. Like I said, the Combine has undergone some changes . . . it isn't the same nation that allied with the Suns against the Clans. You could say it's gone back to basics.”

“Blake's blood . . .” Ranger said again, but this time she sounded as shocked as Lindsay felt.

Lindsay could hear distaste in Koukin's voice as he spoke about the current state of the Combine, but she wasn't sure if it was just an act to get on their good sides.

Her focus was on the Capellan Confederation, but what she was hearing about the Combine from Koukin just seemed to confirm the worst rumors she'd been hearing. Executing prisoners, exterminating an entire Clan that had by all reports all but joined them . . . that was genocide and they were just getting away with it because the blackout made their actions a secret spreading far too slowly . . .

She tried to move on. She asked Koukin in as calm and confident a voice as she could manage, “And why are _you_ here? Surely your father knows that sending you to us just negates the advantage of holding Alayne and Elim.”

“You're assuming my father values me, his second son, as highly as the number of people in this room indicates you value those two,” Koukin said with an almost helpless looking smile. He continued saying, “As I said I came for a number of reasons, but if you want to think of me as a hostage or a prisoner I am willing to accept that, I knew I was taking a risk coming at all. I do however have better uses to you.”

“Such as?” Lindsay asked.

“I'm a Mechwarrior, and I'm not DCMS. I'm a registered mercenary, just like you. My company recently fell victim to the Company Store tactic and my father bought out our contracts on the condition we join the Legion of Vega,” Koukin said with a shrug and an expression that seemed to be inviting Lindsay to trust him which only made her choose to do the opposite. He said, “Lucky for me your kids showing up and our need to apprise you of their status left me an opening to avoid that unsavory fate. So my personal contract is . . . up in the air. I had hoped to offer it to you as a gesture of my father's good intentions.”

Lindsay could tell there was more to it, so she asked, “Your father's good intentions and what else?”

Koukin smiled weakly and said, “Well let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. I feel I should earn your trust before I tell you too much more, but suffice to say that just as my grandfather fought alongside your grandfather against the Clans I am willing to fight alongside you, even if your enemy _is_ the Combine. Heck, maybe even _especially_ if you're fighting the Combine.”

Lindsay waved a hand, “Let's assume I'm willing to trust you. Do you have a Mech?”

“A _Mad Dog_ , er that is _Vulture._ Primary configuration.”

“It's loaded on the _DeLeon_ ,” The Captain said, “Since we had the bays. That's why we were able to come back first, Mr. Saeki here offered to foot the bill for all the rides we hitched.”

_Damn. That Mech's not a bad addition at all,_ Lindsay thought, but she spoke as if she were unimpressed saying, “You paid their way back? How successful a Merc were you?”

“Rich family, pretty poor personally, actually.” Koukin shrugged.

Lindsay scoffed and folded her arms. “Good enough. Jules please see to his contract and have that _Vulture_ loaded aboard the _Claw,_ just have the _DeLeon_ come here it'll be faster and we need to be underway by the evening. Send a crew to bring her in, I won't drag her own crew from their homes just to move a Mech.”

“We going somewhere?” Koukin asked.

“We are, tonight in fact. I'm sorry Ranger, Ragna, Marcus, I know you might want more answers from him and when I get back we can try to figure out what if anything can be done to help Alayne and Elim. But at the moment the Capellan March is crumbling just as rapidly as the Draconis March and another Mechwarrior is another Mechwarrior. We're going to need him on Tikonov.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a passion project for me, which might seem kind of silly since I know it's never going to be "big" or have a very large audience (certainly not relative to my anime stories). But I wanted to write it, and sometimes that's all Fan-fiction needs to be; a story you wanted to tell. All the same it's not the first Fenix Fusiliers story, or even the first story starring Lindsay (her fight on Arboris may appear in a flashback though). There are other short stories which are almost just bat-reps usually involving just a slight lead up and a single engagement since I used to rather enjoy writing fluff for my games. I wouldn't consider them worthy of posting on their own but if by some chance this story does develop a following and there's an interest I might see what I can do to rework them into a proper narrative. So please leave feedback if you enjoy this and want more from earlier eras.  
> I chose to start here instead of going all the way back to the unit's founding (in 3061) because where the setting is now is more interesting to me than going back to where things were more than a decade ago, I'm more eager to write about how/if the Fusiliers survive in this new more turbulent post-Republic era. But that doesn't mean I won't post that story later.


End file.
